Prologue: A Saga Begins
by angeli0722
Summary: {Complete} Prequel -- Harry's grandparents' story. After graduating Hogwarts, his spirited grandmother Victoria Gates rejects the wishes of her rich & powerful family, deciding to follow her dream of being an artist. Includes James' & Sirius' births.
1. Chapter 1: Footsteps

**Author's Note:** Nope, I don't own Harry Potter! But if I did, this is what his grandparents' story would be like. This Prologue is the first part of my ficcy saga. I wrote it on a whim two Christmases ago, & it's my favorite thing that I've ever written.

It makes sense by itself, but I think that it'd probably be better to go to my author page, start with my first fic, my Year 5 one, then work your way back through the prequels. That's what several of my readers tell me is the easiest way to understand everything off the bat is. But, if you like a little mystery, read on! All will most definitely be revealed...

After this, read Part 1 & so forth. Sorry if Parts 3 & 4 aren't finished when you get to them; I'm working backwards from my Year 5. So eventually, I guess you'll end up there with unanswered questions!

I started writing my saga about a year & a half before OoP came out, so it is definitely from _that _particular era. So, sorry if parts of it are utterly cliche now, but they weren't when I started this fic! I'm a traditional shipper, but I really enjoy putting strange twists on everything. And the ships I _hate_, I make it so the characters are related & therefore hooking up would be incest & morally wrong. I do add in a lot of OC's, because I happen to think they're fun.

Also, I do admit to using way too much music in my fics. Not songfic, but when a song is so perfect for the scene, who am I to resist?

Please don't forget the lovely Review button at the bottom of your screen...__

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**Chapter 1: Footsteps**

_She came calling one early morning. She showed her crown of thorns. She whispered softly to tell a story about how she had been wronged. _

_As she lay lifeless, he stole her innocence. And this is how she carried on. _

_Well I guess she closed her eyes, and just imagined everything's alright. But she could not hide her tears, 'cause they were sent to wash away those years… _

Wash away those years…I wonder how many people know that my father wrote that song while he was in Azkaban prison, serving a sentence for a crime that he didn't commit. And, I'm sure that even fewer people realize that the 'she' is my mother. To most people, those words simply belong to a song by Creed.

In fact, I bet that Mom would be scandalized if she found out how much I know about both she and Papa's pasts. They don't like to talk about what happened back then, and frankly, I don't blame them.

You'll never see their real story in any of the dozens of biographical books in Flourish and Botts. Most of what's in those books isn't really true, anyway. Papa told Nicholas and I when we were little that people are fascinated with the rich and famous, so they make up what they don't know. And since my parents rarely give the media any access into our lives, a lot gets made up.

Take my name, for instance. I read in a book the other day that I'm named for my maternal grandmother. Which is interesting because her name is Catherine, and I'm Megan, Meggie to those who know me. Both names are Celtic, but that's where the similarities end.

But, irritations and misconceptions like that come with being part of the notoriously famous Black family. I'm the youngest child by ten minutes, and Nicholas never lets me forget it. Nicholas Black, the miracle child, my parents' pride and joy. I'm just the tag-along.

It's frustrating having two perfect siblings. My older sister Hermione does no wrong, and neither does Nicholas. I'm stuck trying to follow in their footsteps. So often, I feel like the family black sheep, which is how this all got started.

When I was around nine, I became curious about my family. Not the same old stories my parents tell over and over – I wanted to know the family dirty laundry, or even if there was any dirt. It would make me feel better about being the pariah if I had something in common with one of my ancestors.

So, I decided to sneak into the attic, which is strictly off-limits. No one except my parents are allowed up there, which led me to believe that whatever I was looking for was up there. I nicked my cousin Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and waited. Finally, I got my opportunity when Papa went to get the Christmas decorations.

I carefully crept up the stairs, trying not to make a sound. My father has amazing hearing, and if I had gotten caught – I don't even want to _think_ of the consequences. Most people think that because my parents are fun-loving people, they're permissive parents. Well, they're not.

Mom says that part of it is on principle. When she was young, apparently Papa made her follow a million and one rules. Yes, my father raised my mother. Which is beyond bizarre, I know. And according to her, he's much more laid-back than he used to be. Even so, I would've been in the worst trouble of my life if he had caught me.

Luckily, I managed to tiptoe upstairs. I hurried to the furthest corner of the attic, and sat on an old, dusty trunk while my father quickly levitated the Christmas decorations and walked them downstairs. As soon as I heard the door slam shut, I tossed off the cloak and began to investigate my surroundings.

After a few minutes of exploration, I discovered why none of us kids are allowed in the attic. Anything and everything that belonged to our family is stored up here. In one corner, I came across all of Hermione's mum's old sketchpads and artwork. In another, my Uncle James' Quiddich trophies and old gear. At the top of the stairs was my Grandma Catherine's antique vanity. Why Mom doesn't use it, I don't know. Maybe she's forgotten that it's up here.

But, the biggest find of all was contained in that old, dusty trunk. When I opened it on a whim, I discovered my mother's old journals. I didn't even know she kept journals until then. I scooped up several of them, and parked myself in a comfortable-looking rocking chair. Excited, I flipped open the cover.

Unfortunately, I couldn't read a single word, because Mom wrote all of them in Gaelic, her native language. The only thing I could make out was her name – Isabelle Rose Evans. It would be years of before I could understand her journals, but all the effort was definitely worth it.

Poor Mom just thought that I wanted to learn Gaelic for the heck of it. Papa was more skeptical, and far less trusting of my motives. Probably because we're just alike, he and I. Come to think of it, I'm nearly an exact cross of my parents, unlike Nicholas. He's more like my Aunt Lily; at least, that's what everyone tells us.

From that day on, the attic became my private sanctuary. I found refuge from the little trials and tribulations of life among the relics of the past. And, as my Gaelic got better, I began to read my mother's journals. Throughout my childhood, I relived my late family's lives through Mom's eyes.

The stories that Mom's journals describe are far different than anything that I've ever read, or that anyone has ever told me. Well, except for Harry. Early on, he discovered what I was doing, mostly because I nicked his Invisibility Cloak. Luckily, he understood why I was nosing around the attic, and began helping me out.

Although Harry's technically my first cousin, he's like a wise older brother that I can always go to when I need anything. We spent countless hours sorting through family folklore, trying to piece together an accurate timeline of events. And, a truthful family history.

I'd say that our family, in its present form, is the product of a highly unlikely friendship between my paternal grandmother, Juliana Piedra de Black, and Harry's paternal grandmother, Victoria Gates Potter. Actually, those are my sister Hermione's two grandmothers. But, I'm already getting ahead of myself.

Papa's mother's family is originally from Spain. My great-grandparents lived through, and fought in, the Spanish Civil War. My great-grandfather, Miguel Piedra, was an artist and writer, and my great-grandmother Mariana Delgado de Piedra was a great actress. That's how they met. They were an integral part of the wizarding artistic community of the day.

My great-grandfather, who I know simply as Abuelo, was very good friends with both Pablo Picasso, the modernist painter, and Federico Garcia Lorca, a famous playwright and poet. When the War broke out, the artistic community tried not to be politically involved in the conflict. However, the new Fascist government perceived the Spanish wizarding world, and especially the artists, as a huge threat to their regime.

My family's ancestral homeland is roughly halfway between Granada and Malaga, and has been for centuries. Abuelo flatly refused to leave their home even though tensions grew high in the southern area of Spain. On August 19, 1936, right-wing Nationalists stopped him, Lorca, and several other people on the road, and an argument broke out amongst them. Knowing that they did not support General Franco and the Nationalist insurgence, the troops refused to let them go. Instead, they marched Abuelo and the others into the woods, and opened fire.

To this day, no one knows the location of Abuelo's body. He became an example for what happens to leftist sympathizers, and a martyr for the left-wing Republicans, along with Lorca. Heartbroken but determined, my great-grandmother, Abuela in Mom's journals, took my grandmother and fled to Barcelona. My grandmother was only three years old.

They stayed there, mostly because it was the Republic's greatest stronghold. Mom loves Barcelona, and takes us there often, where we stay in Abuela's old house. Sometimes I stand in my grandmother Juliana's old bedroom, and look out at the city, trying to picture what life must've been like back then.

I'm not really sure why, but I really relate to the Spanish side of my family. Well, I'm my grandmother's living image, except that I have Mom's green eyes. So, that probably has something to do with it. But, it's more than looks; I feel more Spanish than anything else, even though I'm technically British.

When I'm in Barcelona, or Grenada, it feels like home. More so than Dover, or London, or Hogsmeade, and I don't know why. Mom says that she feels the same way about Galway in Ireland, where her family's originally from. And, it's true; she's an Irish girl, through and through, which rubs off on Nicholas. He learned Gaelic years before I did. No offense to Mom, but shamrocks just aren't my style.

Anyway, Abuela and my grandmother stayed in Barcelona, even after it fell to General Franco. As long as they didn't call attention to themselves, they slipped through the cracks and lived unnoticed by the authorities. They established an uneasy routine until a polio epidemic swept through the city when my grandmother was seven.

Although my family's wealthy, there simply wasn't enough medicine or doctors to go around. All Abuela could do when my grandmother got sick was to pray that she would get well enough to travel to another country for better medical treatment. By the time she could travel, my grandmother was basically a cripple.

I hope that I take after Abuela, at least a little. She's such an amazing woman; she never gave up, no matter how bad things got. I truly believe that without her, my parents never would've gotten together. But, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

One night, Abuela packed up my grandmother, and snuck out of the country into France. From there, they traveled to London, England, where they settled in a quiet neighborhood in Chelsea. My grandmother Juliana got better, slowly but surely. She was schooled by private tutors, but led anything but a sheltered life.

Grandma Juliana (sorry, Mom's English is very Americanized, so that's how I learned her name) chose to stay in London rather than to go to Hogwarts. She said that she'd rather be in the middle of things instead of in the back of beyond. I tried that argument with Papa, but it didn't work. Unfair, huh?

While Grandma Juliana was being tutored (lucky duck, and have I mentioned yet that Mom was privately tutored, too?), Abuela decided to go to medical school because she was highly unsatisfied with the state of pediatric medicine at that time. So, they often passed their evenings keeping each other company studying.

More often than not, though, they were in the West End involved in one play or another. No one has ever given me a straight answer, but I truly believe that Abuela was at least part gypsy. She had to be, from her pictures and the way that she's described. Regardless, I come from a long line of free spirits, on both sides of the family. Despite her busy schedule as a doctor, Abuela never gave up the theatre. Grandma Juliana didn't act because she couldn't walk very well, but she did sing and play the guitar all the time.

She used to perform in a tiny coffee shop frequented by other Spanish refugees and artsy types. It was quite an unorthodox life, but it's all she knew, and she was happy. When my grandmother passed the N.E.W.T. tests and became a fully qualified witch, Abuela decided to go back to Spain to provide healthcare for low-income patients.

After she left, Grandma Juliana was very lonely, so she entertained visitors at the house in Chelsea often. I use the term 'entertaining' loosely – she basically threw a never-ending party. Which is exactly what appealed to eighteen-year-old Victoria Gates, who I know as Mummy P.

When Mummy P graduated from Hogwarts, she headed straight for London, looking for excitement and adventure. Unfortunately for her, she was the black sheep in her family of bankers. Not that there's anything wrong with banking. In fact, Papa's family, the Blacks, helped found Gringotts' bank along with the Potter family.

However, the Gates family was quite stuck-up, and wanted Mummy P to keep up appearances of culture and sophistication. And if there's anything she hated, it was pretending to be someone she wasn't. So, she packed her bags, kissed her trust fund goodbye, and set off to find a job…

Nervously walking down the street, Victoria paused to scan the help ads from a newspaper that she picked up from a local street vendor. Loud, angry voices spilled out from a nearby alleyway as she pulled a highlighter quill out of her bag and circled several ads. It was only after she finished that she realized that the quill was a bit out of place in Muggle London. She hastily stuffed it back into her bag, making a mental note to visit the first stationery store that she found. 

"Diego," an irate female voice with an odd accent screamed. "Any git should be able to brew coffee and pour it without spilling it on the customers!"

"But, Liana--"

"Don't Liana me. Dios, give me strength! It's a simple job, Diego. If I could walk around like you, I'd do it myself. But I can't, so I have to rely on idiots like you! You brewed the coffee so that it was the consistency of caramel. Caramel and coffee both start with the letter 'C', but when people pay for coffee, they should get coffee! Not caramel, with grinds at the bottom of the cup!"

"Oh, fine, you think you can replace me so easily?"

"Anyone could do a better job than you! Excuse me? Excuse me!" Liana bellowed. Victoria looked up from her paper, wide-eyed. "Yes, you. The one who's looking through the want ads. What's your name?"

"Victoria," she gulped. "Victoria Gates."

"As in _the_ Gates family?"

"Yeah."

"What's one of your kind doing out here? You know, in the working world?"

Victoria watched the other girl cross her arms expectantly, glaring up at her from her wheelchair. "Uh, well I, that is, um…I'm an artist. And, I need a job to pay bills. So, do you need help or not?"

"Do you know how to brew coffee?"

"I can learn," she said resolutely.

"Good enough." The girl stuck out her hand, and Victoria shook it. "Welcome to our little café. I'm Juliana, but most people call me Liana."

"Nice to meet you, Liana."

"Likewise." She turned her wheelchair around and rolled back into the café's tiny kitchen, followed closely by a perplexed Victoria and a brooding Diego.

Once Victoria's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she began looking around the room wide-eyed. A large island with a sink, stove range and cutting board was in the middle of the floor. Along all four walls was a low countertop. She guessed that was because Juliana was wheelchair-bound.

Above and below the counters were rows and rows of shelves covering every available inch of space. Jars of coffees, chocolate tins, baskets of fresh bakery goods, teas, dishes and dozens of other goods were stacked neatly on the festively painted shelves. Although the room was stuffed to capacity, it was spotless.

A coffee pot began whirling and percolating cheerfully. Victoria turned around, and noticed about a half dozen coffee and tea pots, working perfectly without the benefit of electricity or any other Muggle form of power. A puzzled look passed over her face.

"Yes, they're magically charmed," Juliana laughed.

"I should've guessed that you were a witch. Why else would you know about my family?" she said, suddenly feeling very stupid.

The other girl simply shrugged. "Diego, could you do a quick inventory for me? I need to place an order with my tea supplier in the morning."

"Oh, you trust me with the finances of this fine institution, but not with charming a coffee pot to brew?" he seethed.

"Of course I trust you. I've known you since I was ten. Now that I've hired someone else to handle the floor, I could really use you in the back to handle the books. You're a math genius, and I'm not. I need you." Juliana smiled charmingly, knowing that he couldn't stay mad at her for long. After a minute, he huffed over to a small, cluttered desk and pulled out a tattered blue notebook. "Thank you, Diego."

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me know if Miranda shows up, ok?" he said, searching the desk drawers for a quill and bottle of ink.

"No problem. I'll be sure to send your little girlfriend back to see you," she teased. "Alright, Victoria, are you ready for the rest of the tour?"

"Sure," she answered, walking into the main part of the café, falling in love with the atmosphere immediately.

The walls were painted a warm yellow gold, which reflected the candlelight of the wall sconces and tables beautifully. About a dozen tables were strewn haphazardly throughout the room, surrounded by comfortable-looking red art deco chairs. At one end of the room was a makeshift stage, with a stool in the center of the platform. A guitar was propped up on the stool.

What struck Victoria the most, however, were the massive amounts of art that filled the walls from floor to ceiling. She was amazed at the eclectic variety of styles and themes. But somehow, it all managed to come together. She discreetly pointed to a painting.

"How did you get a reproduction of that Picasso over there? I've been after one for months, and haven't found one," she asked. Juliana gave her a funny look.

"Reproduction? No, mi amiga, there are no reproductions here. All of these paintings are gifts to my family. They're here because I thought it was a shame not to share such lovely art with the world. You see, this café is my version of a charitable institution," she explained.

"Charitable institution?"

"Uh-huh. I bought this place a couple of months ago and made it profitable. So, I give the proceeds to charity. If I asked the beatniks and gypsies who frequent this place for money for the poor, they'd tell me no way because they are the poor. But, they have no problem paying a pound or two for a cup of coffee."

"That's a really good idea," she said, mostly to herself. Something clicked in her head. "Pardon me, but what's your last name?"

"Piedra. Juliana Piedra Delgado from Granada, Spain. Yes, I'm one of _those_ Piedras," she answered while quickly clearing a table, seeing Victoria's inquisitive look out of the corner of her eye.

"Wow." Victoria couldn't believe her luck. The Piedra family was incredibly well known in artistic circles, and knew the type of people that she really wanted to be around.

"So, what do you think of the place? Not exactly the posh surroundings you're used to, but I think it's pretty cozy."

"I think it's perfect. Do I start working tonight?" She grinned happily. Life has definitely taken a turn for the better, she thought.

"Sure."

Juliana showed her the café's menu, where everything was located, and gave a brief description of what her job would entail. Frankly, she was impressed at how quickly Victoria caught on, and the level of energy she had. Between the two of them, they easily managed the room's orders.

"What can I get for you?" she asked briskly, pulling out a short quill and scrap of parchment paper.

"Just a cup of coffee," a deep voice replied.

"That's it?" she teased, looking up. She completely lost her train of thought as she stared at the man in front of her.

"Yeah, that's it." He smiled crookedly. Without a word, she headed back to the kitchen, lightheaded.

Oh, come on, Juliana told herself firmly. No way a man that good-looking would be interested in a cripple like you. She sighed sadly as she delivered his coffee, noticing a wand sticking out of his cloak pocket. Intrigued, she wheeled over to Victoria, who was loading a tray full of desserts.

"Hey," she hissed, pointing. "Do you know that bloke over there?"

Victoria causally glanced across the room. "Actually, I do."

"Well, who is he?" Juliana asked impatiently.

"William Black. His parents were friends with mine before they were killed."

"Killed?"

"Yes, in a really awful accident. I don't know all the details." She shrugged. "He was a few years ahead of me at Hogwarts, so I don't know him very well."

"My papa was killed, too. So, that's one thing in common." Juliana narrowed her eyes. There was something about this man that fascinated her.

"Oh, no. You don't want to get mixed up with a Black. They have wicked tempers and are horrible brooders. Best to give any Black a very wide berth," Victoria warned, knowing her words fell on deaf ears.

"Passionate, huh?" Juliana's face lit up in a wicked grin as a plan formed in her mind.

"That's one way of putting it."

Victoria shook her head as Juliana winked and wheeled into the back room, calling out Diego's name. A few minutes later, she walked into the main café, dragging him reluctantly to the stage. As the patrons cheered and catcalled, she gave a sweeping bow and gracefully sat on the stool.

"Good evening, everyone," she spoke over the crowd.

"You better be singing, Liana!" a loud male voice screamed from the far right corner.

"That's the plan," she replied, nodding to Diego, who began playing a baby grand piano at the rear of the stage.

_You could buy me diamonds   
You could buy me pearls   
Take me on a cruise around the world   
Baby you know I'm worth it _

Victoria clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping at the rowdy, bordering on bawdy, response by the café patrons. Obviously this wasn't the first time she'd sung this song, and it appeared to be a real crowd pleaser.

_Dinner lit by candles  
Run my bubble bath   
Make love tenderly to last, to last   
Cause baby you know I'm worth it _

"Anytime, Liana! I'll show you what you're worth!" A blonde man called from the front of the room.

Juliana winked in response and mouthed, "In your dreams," before continuing.

_Cause a real man, knows a real woman when he sees her   
And a real woman knows a real man ain't afraid to please her   
And a real woman knows a real man always comes first   
And a real man just can't deny a womans worth _

To Victoria's incredible surprise, her new friend stood up and began mingling among the crowd. Juliana didn't look the least bit handicapped as she sashayed her way around the café, microphone in hand. However, it didn't shock Victoria in the slightest when she stopped right in front of William Black and leaned over the table seductively to serenade him.

_If you treat me fairly   
I'll give you all my goods   
Treat you like a real woman should   
Baby I know you're worth it _

The young man flushed bright red, especially when he looked up and saw the extremely jealous glares on every other man's face. He had to admit that Juliana was enchanting; in fact, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

_If you never play me   
Promise not to bluff   
I'll hold you down when shit gets rough   
Cause baby I know you're worth it _

She walked around the table as she sang. And, to everyone's astonishment, she moved the table with a quick swish of her cleverly hidden wand and sat down on his lap. A pair of stunned green eyes met her own.

"Good evening," she said in a sultry tone as Diego played an interlude. "Please excuse my forwardness, but my legs were getting tired. Do you mind if I rest for a bit?"

"No. Not at all," he replied, finding his voice.

"Thank you, uh--"

"William. William Black," he stuttered.

"Well, nice to meet you William Black," she whispered in his ear before beginning to sing again. Juliana smiled at him, and put her arms around his neck.

He tried as hard as he could not to openly stare at her, but he couldn't help himself. Especially since she made him feel like they were the only two people in the entire room. The world, for that matter. As the song ended and she stood up, he knew that he'd fallen for this mysterious siren. And that nothing could keep him from returning to the café the next night.

  
  
After cleaning up and closing up the café, Victoria trudged to the kitchen and dropped her apron in the laundry basket. She sadly gathered up her belongings and slowly dragged her feet to the back door. 

As her hand grasped the door handle, she realized that she didn't know when she needed to be at work the next day. So, she turned and walked back into the main dining area, where Diego was teasing Juliana for her earlier musical performance.

"You did everything but invite him to your place for a little private fiesta, Liana. That was so unlike you. Whatever happened to 'I don't need men. I get by just fine on my own.'?" he teased.

"Well, I _don't_ need men, and I _do_ get by just fine on my own. It just that he was so--" she sighed dreamily, staring at the empty chair where William sat earlier. "It's not your business anyway. And besides, he wouldn't really be interested in someone like me, anyway."

"What do you mean, someone like you?" Diego asked sharply.

"You know, the non-walking kind of person. No man wants to be seen with a cripple." Her shoulders slumped, and Victoria saw her reach for a handkerchief and wipe a couple of tears away.

"You're not a cripple, Liana," he said gently. "And you can walk, just not as far as some people can. As for being seen with you, trust me, every man in that room would've given their eye teeth to be that redhead you parked yourself on."

"Really?" she smiled through her tears.

"Definitely. Bet your redheaded friend shows up tomorrow."

"Do you think he will?"

Diego scoffed. "He'd be a fool not to."

"Stop it! I can't take you being nice to me." Juliana put her hands over her ears and whirled her wheelchair around so that she was facing the door. "Oh, hi."

"Hi. I'm sorry, I was just wondering what time I needed to be at work tomorrow," Victoria said quietly.

"Probably around three o'clock in the afternoon. We open at five. Um, I know it's not my business, but is something wrong? Do you not like it here? Because you don't have to stay just to be polite," Juliana said quickly.

"Oh, no," she replied, a little more loudly than she intended. "I love it here already. You're wonderful to work for, and the pay's good. Not to mention all this art – it's inspiring. It's a different world than what I'm used to, which makes it that much harder to go home."

"Home?" Diego raised an eyebrow.

Everyone in the wizarding world had heard of the Gates mansion on the outskirts of London. The intimidating estate was hardly welcoming and homey. And no one knew that more than Victoria.

"Yeah." She ran her fingers through her sleek, jet-black hair distractedly. "I was planning to apartment shop this afternoon, but…"

"Well, what sort of place are you looking for?" Juliana inquired curiously.

"Oh, nothing too big. A studio flat will do. I just want enough space to set up an easel or two. Good lighting would be a plus, but not necessary. I usually painted in the dungeons at school, so I know how to make do with dim lighting conditions. Why, do you know anyone who's letting apartments around here?"

"Sort of," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "The property's great, in Chelsea as a matter of fact. Beautiful garden in the backyard, excellent lighting. The rooms are quite large, certainly adequate for what you want. Rent's free, as long as you don't mind the constant comings and goings of artistic types."

"What's the catch?" Victoria asked skeptically.

"Landlord's a pain. Completely unbearable to live with," Diego said seriously.

"Diego, I'm trying to get a roommate here! Honestly, I think it would work out well. Mama's always worried about me living in that big house by myself. And, I think that your parents would be a little more amenable to your lifestyle choices if you were living with someone of your own social status."

She said the last part quietly, as if not to be offensive. But, both women knew the veracity of her statement. Victoria's family was well known as being elitist and disdainful of anyone who wasn't in their social circles. Although Juliana or her mother rarely attended any Society events, they were always welcome, mostly because they were quite wealthy and famous.

Victoria grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Still in partial shock about her sudden good fortune, she followed Juliana and Diego into the bustling night streets. After receiving very specific directions about the location of her new home, she took a deep breath and Disapparated.

She was almost afraid to open her eyes, worried that she'd landed in the wrong location. She peeked out cautiously. The eclectic colors and furnishings of the room informed her that this was the right place. Sure enough, Juliana wheeled into the doorway with a relieved look on her face.

"Good, glad you made your way here all right," she said, before leading the way up the sweeping staircase. "Ok, you have your choice of suites. Personally, I'd pick the one on the far right, but that's just me. Anyway, feel free to look around the house. If you need anything, my room's right here."

"Thanks. Goodnight," Victoria called out, as Juliana retreated into her own suite of rooms.

"Buenas noches," she yawned sleepily before closing the door. Luckily, things were quiet around the house for once. So, she was left alone with her thoughts of a certain redheaded café patron, who hadn't left her mind for a second all night.

"I think I'm going to like it here," Victoria said confidently to herself. This was undoubtedly one of the best days of her life.


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy Next Door

Chapter 2

  


"Victoria!" an overly excited voice called upstairs. 

  


"Yes?" she answered back, groggily opening one eye. She rolled over and looked at the clock, which read eight o'clock in the morning. 

"Come here quick!" Juliana begged. "I'm downstairs in the living room." 

"Coming, coming," she yawned, wondering what was so important that she needed to leave the bed before noon. Victoria padded down the staircase, down the hallway, and finally found the living room. 

"Look, it's _him_." Juliana's nose was practically touching the windowpane. 

"It's who?" She rubbed her eyes and walked over to the window. Her friend discreetly pointed to the next-door neighbor's front porch. Victoria gasped loudly. "Oh, no. Not _him_." 

"Yes, _him_. I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, when I saw him outside. I wonder what he's doing next door?" 

"Good question." Victoria's face reddened with anger at the mere sight of the young man standing outside. 

"I wonder what business he has with Stephen Potter?" Juliana inquired curiously. 

"You mean to tell me that that insufferable, horrid git lives next door?" she seethed. 

"Yes, he bought the house a couple of months ago. Why, do you know him?" 

"Unfortunately. We went to school together. If it were up to my parents, they'd have married me off to him by now. He's exactly the type of boring prat they want me to suffer through life with," she said sourly. 

"He can't be but so boring if he's talking to William Black." Juliana's voice pronounced the last two words in a very high-pitched tone. 

"You have no idea." Something suddenly occurred to Victoria. "I bet they're talking about work. Both of them work at Gringotts' Bank with my father, I think. I remember seeing William there a couple of months ago, and I'd bet anything that dull Stephen took a job at the bank when he graduated." 

"A banker. Well, that's not exactly creative, but still respectable." 

"Listen to you! You have half of a conversation with a man and you're completely nutters over him." 

Juliana tilted her head in an effort to see the porch more clearly. "It's called love at first sight. I bet that you fancy the boy next door." 

"You _are_ off your nut." Victoria's entire face was pursed. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much," she teased, grinning evilly. 

"Oh, come on. Stephen and I have absolutely nothing in common. In fact, we were mortal enemies at Hogwarts, especially seventh year when were stuck doing stuff together as Head Boy and Girl. We can't be in the same room for two minutes without being at each other's throats." 

"Still protesting," Juliana said in a singsong voice, wheeling towards the kitchen. "Besides, don't opposites attract?" 

Victoria frowned, carefully studying him for the first time. He wasn't so bad looking, really. Pretty cute, if she was totally honest with herself. And, he was incredibly clever. Furious at herself for thinking about him this way, she took out her wand and turned his hair bright blue. She watched William's face turn red from trying not to laugh, and couldn't help herself. Against all common sense, she threw open the window and stuck out her head. 

"Hey, Potter – how do you like your new look?" she screamed. 

Stephen instantly recognized her voice and shot her a look of pure venom. "What are you doing here, Gates? And what did you do to me?" 

"For a Ravenclaw, you're being awfully daft this morning. Obviously I live here. As for your hair, I think it's a marked improvement over your usual brown scraggly mop," she hollered, making fun of his multi-directional hair. No matter what he did to it; it was always messy, which gave him an absent-minded professor look. She laughed hysterically as he tried to charm out the color. 

"Ok, you've had your laugh. Now fix my hair!" Stephen roared. 

"Nope. Have a good day, and please tell Daddy I said hello if you see him. Thank you!" she answered sweetly, swiftly closing the window. When she turned around, Juliana was looking at her with an amused smile. "What?" 

"Oh, yeah. You're definitely in love with him," she pronounced. 

"I am not!" Victoria argued. 

~~~~~

"So, what can I get for you?" Victoria asked, removing a small quill from her back pocket and smiling at the handsome café patron. 

One of the things she enjoyed the most about her work is the constant stream of good-looking men. She never had a lack of dates for the weekend, or when she was forced to attend one of her parents' boring dinners. And this dark-haired stranger has a lot of potential, she thought with an internal smile. 

"Do you serve some sort of Colombian blend coffee?" he inquired. 

"Sure do." 

"Great. I'll take the largest cup you serve." He smiled, and she felt a little weak-kneed as she cheerfully walked back to the kitchen. 

"What's got you in such a great mood?" Juliana asked teasingly, knowing full well what her friend had in mind. In fact, she'd bet anything that this new customer would make an appearance at the house in the next couple of days. 

Victoria rolled her eyes and walked back into the café. Her eyes scanned the room briefly, as was her custom whenever she left the kitchen. As usual, William Black was parked at his usual table. But, tonight he wasn't alone. 

Curious, she squinted to try to discern the other person through the dim lighting. She dropped her tray with a loud crash and stared with her jaw dropped. Juliana rushed to her side as soon as she heard the noise and began laughing. 

"It's not funny," Victoria huffed. "What's _he_ doing here?" 

"Probably what everyone else is doing. Getting a cup or two of coffee on his way home from work." 

"I don't want him here. It's bad enough that I live beside him and am forced to see him at least once a day. Now he's invaded my work environment?" 

"Drama queen." 

"You don't understand. I spent seven years at Hogwarts stuck listening to his inane prattle. He's exactly what I'm trying to get away from!" 

"So, don't talk to him. Just ignore him," Juliana said practically. 

"Easier said than done." 

~~~~~

Loud music blared throughout the house, but Juliana barely noticed it or the throngs of people milling about. She was completely focused on the man seated beside her on a small couch in a well-hidden corner. Time had only deepened her feelings for him, and she often found herself counting down the minutes until he got off work. 

"You know what amazes me?" William said loudly in her ear to speak over the music. 

"What?" 

"How this place gets trashed every night, but is completely spotless in the morning." 

A small smile played at her lips. "It's a miracle." 

"Miracle, huh? The only miracle I believe in is how I managed to find such a beautiful woman, who actually gives me the time of day," he said, turning on the charm. 

"Well, right now it's a quarter of three," she replied in a mock serious tone. Her face fell. "Which means that you have to be at work in exactly five hours and fifteen minutes." 

"Looks like we have to make the most of the time we have." 

He gently brushed away a couple of stray strands of hair from her face and kissed her softly. Unlike most women, Juliana seemed nearly immune to his charm. She was far too smart to fall for his usual lines, which made him want her even more. But, every time he went to get a little closer to her, whether it was physically or otherwise, she pulled away. 

He figured that it had something to do with her being mostly wheelchair-bound, and was determined to prove to her that that didn't matter one bit to him. For once, she didn't tense up when he kissed her. In fact, she was fully reciprocating his advances. After a minute or two, he couldn't take the frustration any longer. 

"Juliana?" he rasped in a barely audible whisper. 

"Yes?" 

"I, uh, could we go somewhere a little more private? Snogging my girl for half of London to see isn't, um--" he fumbled. 

"Sure." She looked up at him through her sultry grey eyes. "Private as in the study, or private as in my bedroom?" 

William didn't know whether or not he should answer the question honestly, because he had the distinct feeling that if he got too forward with her, he'd find himself on the receiving end of her fiery Spanish temper. Or, maybe she _wanted_ him to make a move on her. He sat silently for a minute, puzzling over what to say. "Follow me," Juliana instructed him, taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairs. 

She performed an intricate, lengthy set of charms to open the door and pulled him inside. The room faintly smelled of her perfume. It was if her spirit was everywhere, assaulting his senses and driving him crazy. 

Compared to her, he felt like a bumbling idiot, especially when she embraced him passionately. He was by no means inexperienced, but this was different. And, he wanted to treat her right, show her how much he cared for her. 

"Juliana?" he mumbled between kisses. 

"Si?" she murmured in Spanish. 

"I just wanted to let you know that you mean everything to me. That is, I love you." He said the last part nervously, never having told a woman that before. 

"And I love you." 

"You do?" He was genuinely shocked. 

"Don't act so surprised. I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you, and if you don't mind, I'd like to continue showing you that fact." 

He could make out her wicked grin in the semi-darkness. "By all means." "Just one little problem. My legs, they're getting awfully wobbly and--" 

"Oh, I see," William interrupted teasingly, scooping up her tiny frame in his arms and carrying her towards the bed. When he got halfway across the room, a loud banging at the door pierced the silence. 

"Liana! Are you in there?" a male voice screamed. 

"I'm kind of _busy_, Diego," she called back distractedly. 

"Yeah, I'm sure. Sorry to interrupt your private fiesta, but about fifteen policia are on the front porch demanding to talk to the homeowner. Which happens to be you. So, if your amigo can excuse you for a minute, your presence is required downstairs." 

"I can't believe this," Juliana huffed. 

William reluctantly put her down and she stomped over to her wheelchair. After straightening her appearance, she opened the door to a smirking Diego. She charmed his robes into a flowered mumu and conjured up a hat with tall peacock feathers sticking out of the top, which she levitated on his head. 

She wheeled into the hallway and floated down the staircase, followed by two extremely grumpy, brooding men. Wincing a bit at the mess, she joined Victoria in the foyer, who was trying to fend off the small crowd of policemen gathered around her. 

"Sorry," she said apologetically to Juliana, who sighed. 

"It's alright," she lied, turning to the officer who appeared to be in charge. "What can I do for you, sir?" 

"Well, Miss Piedra, we received a call about an hour ago about a noise violation," he said in an official-sounding tone. 

"A noise violation?" Juliana repeated innocently, staring up at him with huge doe eyes. William quietly cracked his knuckles and fought the urge to punch the officer as he openly gawked at her. 

"Yes, there's a noise ordinance in this part of Chelsea. But, seeing as how you didn't know about it, we can excuse you this one time." The officer winked and Victoria grabbed the back of William's robes to hold him back. He settled for giving the policeman a withering stare. 

"I appreciate it, sir. Would you mind telling us who made the call, so we can go apologize to them properly?" Victoria asked in her most penitent voice as the officer checked his notepad. 

"A Mr. Potter," he said, reading. 

"I knew it!" she screeched, running out of the front door. Everyone watched, wide-eyed as she pounded on the door like a woman possessed. "Stephen James Potter, open the door right now! I know you're in there, you bloody git. Calling the Muggle police because you're too cowardly to come over here yourself. That's fine, just hide behind--" 

"I'm _not_ hiding! I'm trying to sleep. That's generally what people do at three thirty in the morning." He stepped onto the porch, extremely disheveled and yawning. 

"Only because you're too daft to be doing anything else!" She threw up her arms, forgetting that they had a captive audience. 

"Awww, did I interrupt something?" Stephen mocked her. 

"Actually, yes," William answered quietly, swearing to make his coworker's life as miserable as humanly conceivable as a payback. 

"What's it to you?" Victoria fired back. 

"Nothing, as long as you're not interrupting my sleep! Some people work for a living." 

"That does it, Potter." 

Everyone watched wordlessly as Victoria charged him and started whaling away. Stephen just laughed, which made her angrier. He effortlessly picked her up in the fireman's carry and walked her over to the property line between the two houses, plopping her down on her rear end in the dirt. She immediately stood up and ran after him. 

"I wouldn't do that. Take another step, and I'll have those policemen over there arrest you for trespassing." He crossed his arms and grinned crookedly at her. 

"You wouldn't dare," she spat. 

"Try me." 

Victoria stood for a minute, thinking. She spat on the ground at Stephen's feet, turned on her heel and marched back into the house. He watched her with an amused expression before walking back into his own home. 

"Well, where were we?" William asked hopefully after the policemen left, and Victoria had cursed the entire Potter family and gone to bed in a fury. 

"I don't know. Care to remind me?" Juliana smiled seductively. 

"Gladly." 

~~~~~

  
Victoria stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door, nearly unhinging it. She didn't know what irritated her so much about Stephen Potter. The mere thought of him made her so angry that she screamed into her pillow for at least thirty seconds. Once she was hoarse, she flopped on her back and settled for plotting her revenge. 

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her options. Their parents were friends, so it was only a matter of time before they would meet socially. She could embarrass him in front of their friends and family. 

Or, she could get William or her father to make his life a living hell at work. William would do anything Juliana wanted, and she was still a daddy's girl. She decided that this plan had real potential. With a wicked grin, she rolled over to go to sleep, making a mental note to owl her father in the morning. 

_Victoria looked around, confused. She was standing in her own bedroom, but it was completely redecorated. The walls were a deep green, instead of rose. And Quiddich posters covered nearly every available inch of wall space. A large mahogany bed was in the far corner of the room, where it appeared that someone was sleeping. A fairly small someone at that. _

_She heard a rapping noise at the window, and then saw the window open slowly. A leg swung over the ledge, quickly followed by a dark-haired girl, probably about ten or eleven. The girl reached outside and pulled in a bulky-looking package, which she quietly set on the floor. She adopted a wicked grin not unlike Victoria's, took off running, and leapt on the bed. _

_"__Happy birthday!" she hollered, jumping up and down. _

_"__Huh? Regina, you're a prat." A tousle-haired boy sat up, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and rolled over. _

_"__Wake up, Sirius! Today's the most important birthday ever. Don't you want to be awake when the Hogwarts owl comes?" she said excitedly, shaking him. _

_"__No, because I'm probably a squib. Can I go back to sleep now?" _

_Regina frowned. "No. Come on, wake up please?" _

_"__Why? Today's no different from any ordinary day, ok? Leave me alone," he barked in a hurt tone. _

_"__Is not, and you know it. If it was, then you'd be getting ready for school by now," she pointed out. "And besides, it's Valentine's Day. Do they even have Valentine's Day at Catholic school?" _

_Sirius bolted upright. "Regina, it's called Valentine's Day because of Saint Valentine. You know, a Catholic guy?" _

_"__Oh. Didn't know." She shrugged. _

_"__How could you not? Everyone knows that," he pointed out obnoxiously. Regina's lower lip trembled. _

_"__Sorry. Just trying to help. I'll let you go back to sleep now." She stood up and walked towards the open window. _

_"__Wait!" Sirius called after her. "I'm sorry, Regina. I should've have said that. I'm just mad at my father, that's all." _

_"__I know." She rushed back over to him and gave him a huge hug. _

_Victoria noticed that he held onto her a little longer than necessary. And that he looked an awful lot like Juliana, just like the girl favored herself. Are they our children? she wondered, sitting on the ledge. _

_"__Do you have Valentine's Day at your school?" Sirius asked. She nodded. _

_"__Yeah. I'm glad that I get to skip it this year, though. All these girls always walk up to James and give him all these Valentines and candy. Yuck!" She made a face. _

_"__They do?" He had an evil glint in his eyes. "He never told me that." _

_"__And they kiss him, too. Some of them on the lips and everything," Regina added in a whisper. _

_"__No way," he said in disbelief. _

_"__I know. It's gross. Be glad that you don't have to see it." _

_"__So, who brings you candy and kisses you?" Sirius asked a little too casually. Victoria's eyes opened wide. He was definitely hitting on her little girl, who was absolutely oblivious. _

_"__No one." Her face fell. "No boy likes me." _

_"__I bet they do. It's just that you're so pretty that they don't think that you'd ever like them." _

_"__I am not pretty. Stop lying, Sirius Black." She pouted and turned away from him. _

_"__You are too," he insisted. "If you'd ever get your nose out of a book, maybe someone other than me would notice." _

_"__I like to read, though." _

_"__Then don't complain when no boy kisses you," Sirius said. He allowed himself a small smile, and Victoria knew exactly what he was up to. The boy was shameless. _

_"__I wasn't complaining in the first place," she huffed. "Besides, who do you kiss on Valentine's Day?" _

_"__Any girl I want to," he said confidently. _

_"__Yeah, right. Prove it," she challenged him, unknowingly walking right into his trap. _

_"__Fine, I will." _

_Victoria watched helplessly as he leaned over and kissed a surprised, but not unwilling, Regina. How dare Juliana's son do that to her little girl? And, why wasn't she smacking that little, presumptuous Black brat? She checked her watch. The hands read ten after eight o'clock. _

_A loud thud hit the floor, and a messy haired boy stood up. He picked up his glasses from the floor and cleaned them off, giving Sirius and Regina enough warning that someone else was in the room. They broke apart and scooted to opposite sides of the bed just as James put on his glasses. _

_"__Mum sent me to tell you that she knows what you just did," he accused them. "What did you do?" _

_"__Nothing," they said together. _

_"__Well, Mum's really mad at you, Sirius. She says that you've got a lot of nerve. Oh, and that breakfast will be ready in ten minutes." _

_"__Nerve? All I did was kiss her! It's not like it meant anything," he lied. _

_"__You kissed my sister!" _

_"__She dared me to!" _

_The two boys were practically nose-to-nose, glaring at each other. Victoria got an eerie feeling, knowing that she was next door. And that the her next door sent her son to chaperone her daughter, knowing that her eighteen year old self was watching the entire scene unfold. Sometimes being a Seer was just too strange. _

~~~~~

  
"I can't tell you how much this means to me," Victoria said thankfully. 

"What are friends for? Besides, it's a great excuse to see William in dress robes." 

She rolled her eyes as Juliana winked. "Where is Prince Charming, anyway?" 

"Getting punch, I think. Probably mingling a little, too. The one drawback about spending the evening with coworkers," she lamented. 

"Hey! What's wrong with that?" 

Both women started giggling, earning odd stares from people as they walked by, which only made them laugh harder. Victoria had never had so much fun at her parents' annual Christmas party before. Usually she was stuck mingling with her parents and listening to their drivel, but this year she begged off with the excuse of introducing Juliana to everyone. 

Which she did, but added commentary in between introductions, giving her friend the dirt on everyone. So, they hardly had stopped laughing for two hours. Victoria charmed the robes of her prissy pseudo-friends to do odd things, so whenever one of them walked by, she could barely keep her composure. 

"Oh, there he is," Juliana pointed across the room. 

"Must you point _him_ out?" 

"I meant William, but now that you mention it, Stephen is standing about two feet away from him." 

"Yes, and actually looks pretty good for a change. But, who is that pathetic excuse of a date?" 

"Jealous?" 

"No." Victoria stood stewing for a minute. "But, honestly, who wears lime green during the holiday season? It's tacky!" 

Juliana tried not point out how obvious it was to everyone in the room that she was eyeing Stephen, including him. Who kept checking Victoria's reaction through the corner of his eyes. He put an arm around his date and whispered in her ear, smiling wickedly when Victoria gave them a withering stare. 

"Ergh, Daddy's waiving me over to meet one of his incredibly boring friends. Be back in a few, ok?" 

Victoria trudged to where her parents were standing, determined not to get sucked into their vortex. Unfortunately, her mother seized the opportunity to parade her around the entire house. She felt like a show dog, but politely smiled and chatted until she felt like her face was going to crack and fall off. 

She watched Juliana wheel out onto the patio with William in tow wistfully, wishing she could be outside with them instead of describing her latest art exhibit for the fortieth time. Outside, Juliana gave her boyfriend a forced smile and fiddled with her punch glass. He frowned and sat down across from her. 

"What's wrong, love?" 

"I feel a little out of place here. And, this is your world…" her voice trailed off. 

"Juliana, you're the color in my life. Literally," he joked, nodding at her stylish, vibrant robes, which stood out so vividly against the muted tones of the other guests' outfits. "I don't know what else to say to make you understand how much I love you. This isn't really the time or place that I would've picked for this, but you're always telling me to be spontaneous. So here goes." 

She gasped as he pulled out a ring box from his robes, got down on one knee, and smiled sheepishly. "Will you marry me?" 

"Of course!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, I love you." 

William smiled into her hair before pulling her to her feet and dragging her inside. "Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I have an announcement to make." 

Everyone within earshot, which was quite a large number of people because he had an extremely loud voice, fell silent. He practically beamed at everyone, making Victoria's stomach a little queasy. She had a suspicion about what he was going to say, and it made her sad in a way. Things were going to change, just when everything was going so well. And change worried her; she didn't like it one bit. 

"If you haven't met her already, I would like for all of you to meet Juliana Piedra." Murmurings erupted through the rooms at the name, which nearly everyone recognized. William held up his hand for silence and grinned again. "Who has foolishly agreed to marry me." 

Congratulations sounded through the air as family friends and coworkers surrounded the couple. Juliana couldn't believe how friendly they were, especially after Victoria's descriptions. She caught her friend's eye and waived happily. 

~~~~~

  
Romantic, huh? Just wait until you read about how Papa proposed to Mom. The Black men can be very charming, from what I've seen. Usually it's because they've done something stupid that they need to atone for. In the case of my grandparents, I'd like to think that my grandfather was making up for the rest of his life early on. 

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Once Abuela heard that Grandma Juliana was engaged, she immediately Apparated at their house and gave Grandma a piece of her mind. Abuela told her that she was being stupid for marrying my grandfather, and naïve for thinking that she could lead a normal life. 

That didn't go over well. Grandma accused her of not accepting the fact that she didn't depend on Abuela for everything anymore. And that she was mad because she couldn't run Grandma's life. Abuela said that she needed someone to remind her of her physical limitations before she killed herself. 

But, despite their arguing, my Grandma became Juliana Piedra de Black the following May in a little church in Barcelona. One day, I want to get married there. It's right on the water, and the view is breathtaking at sunset. 

They headed off on their honeymoon, and when they arrived back in London, Grandma was already pregnant. She waited until the end of the summer to tell Abuela, putting off the inevitable fighting that would ensue. 

You see, Grandma wasn't supposed to have children because the polio left her body very weak. But, no one could control her, and she wanted a baby. My grandparents were sickeningly happy, and spent the entire fall planning and dreaming. Even Abuela gave up her fussing and got caught up in the baby fever. 

By early November, Grandma was more or less on bed rest, so Mummy P (I just can't bring myself to call her Victoria) kept her company during the day while Grandpa was at work. Then, she'd go to work. It was a nice comfortable routine, which all fell apart shortly after the annual Gates Christmas party. 

~~~~~

Again, thanks for reading, & please review? Thank you kindly...:-D


	3. Chapter 3: The Brightest Star

Chapter 3

Victoria drew her shawl tighter around her body, and stared at the night sky. A single tear ran down her face. She hated being at her parents' house, hated everything about it. And tonight was no exception. Without Juliana around to laugh with, the party was stifling. Which was why she stepped outside for a breath of air. 

If she thought that she could truly escape her life, she would gladly pick up her feet and run wherever they took her. And never look back. She'd go to Paris, New York, Milan – anywhere but here. Maybe California. She sighed and daydreamed about disappearing without a trace, to finally be free. But, she couldn't leave her friend, so she shoved those thoughts out of her mind. 

"Alone?" a voice inquired. She frowned. 

"Obviously." 

To her disgust, Stephen took her answer as an invitation to sit down beside her on the narrow bench. "How's Juliana?" 

"Ready to have the baby." Victoria smiled. "She's not exactly known for her patience." 

"Oh?" He was shocked that she was actually speaking to him like he was a human being. 

"Yeah, it's funny. Every half hour or so she tells the baby that any time he wants to make his grand entrance is fine by her. I wish she was here," she said sadly. 

"I take it that you want to be here just as much as I do," Stephen said carefully, knowing his statement was risky. Victoria's head whipped around. 

"You don't--" 

"Come on. What kind of boring bloke do you take me for? Never mind, don't answer that," he said, seeing the look on her face. "Why do you think that I used to put chocolate frogs down your dress when we were little?" 

"That was _you_?" she squealed. An evil glint appeared in his eyes. 

"And that taffy that turned your teeth purple – that was me." 

"No," she said disbelievingly in a hushed voice. 

"Oh, and the quill that exploded in your face during the O.W.L. tests, the school robes with the itching powder, the Astronomy book that squirted water in your face every time you turned to page 142, the right lock on your trunk that never would quite close right, and that mysterious Christmas card sixth year, for starters." 

"For starters? You cowardly prat, not owning up to any of your pranks so that I could get you back properly. What did you do, stand back and laugh at me?" she huffed. 

"Yup. What can I say? You're an easy mark; very temperamental." 

Victoria pushed him off the bench and onto the ground. "I am not." 

"Right," he laughed, standing up and brushing off his robes. "I'm going to get a drink. Would you like something while I'm at it?" 

"I don't know if I should trust you," she said, narrowing her eyes. 

"No pranks. Wizard promise." 

"Fine, but if you're lying to me, paybacks are hell, Stephen Potter," she warned. 

"I've noticed." 

He frowned as he turned towards the house, thinking of how his workload had more than doubled after the police incident. But, there was something about Victoria that magnetically attracted him to her, ever since they were little, really. He remembered going to parties back then, and how pretty she always looked, like a princess. 

Which is why she was the sole object of his pranks – he wanted her to notice him. But, she was always too busy with her art to pay him any mind. If she knew that he was the one who tossed all of her art supplies into the lake and fed them into the giant squid fourth year, she would probably kill him. 

Or that he felt guilty a week later and spent every cent of his allowance money for the entire term to buy her replacement supplies. He didn't have a clue what to buy, so he went into the store and asked for one of everything. The box barely fit underneath his Invisibility Cloak when he snuck into Gryffindor Tower and hauled it to her dorm room. 

Whatever he bought, it was what she needed, because she went on for weeks how her new things were even better than the old ones, especially the brushes. But, she would've tossed everything in the trash in a heartbeat if she knew that Stephen gave her the supplies. 

He was actually a little surprised that she was still sitting at the bench when he returned, drinks in hand. She even gave him a little smile as she took her drink from his hand. Stephen nervously ran a hand through his hair before sitting down. 

"So," his mind searched for something to say, "how's your latest exhibit doing?" 

"Really well, actually. I had fabulous write-ups in the papers, even the _Prophet_. But, Mum said that my portraits lacked definition. She doesn't understand the concept of modern art." Victoria rolled her eyes, sighed heavily, and quickly swallowed her drink. 

"Sorry about that." 

"Not your problem," she said brightly, forcing a smile on her face. "Care to dance?" 

"To what?" He was puzzled at her sudden change in conversation, not to mention her question. 

"This _is_ a party, and I want to dance. But, if you're too uncoordinated to keep up--" 

"I am not uncoordinated," he defended himself, jumping at the chance to be close to her. 

"Alright, but I'll be very upset if you ruin my shoes." 

She winked and dashed for the house, downing a couple more drinks before Stephen caught up with her. When they reached the floor, Victoria saw her parents staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. To freak them out, she stepped even closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, nearly dissolving in laughing fits when her father dropped his brandy. 

"So, how are your shoes?" Stephen asked jokingly a few dances later. She paused and held out her left foot. 

"Seem to be holding up." She smiled and he felt his knees go weak. 

"Would you like another drink?" He needed to clear his mind a little. 

"Sure," she replied, although she had already had more than enough. She left the dance floor and leaned against the wall. Maybe Stephen wasn't so bad, after all, she mused. 

"I see you've finally chosen a man of some worth to spend your time with," a polite, distant voice hissed in her ear. Victoria turned around, eyes flashing. 

"Who I spend time with is not your concern, Mother," she seethed. 

"Oh, but I think that it is. It's about time that you settled down." 

"To do what? Continue the precious bloodline?" 

"I don't appreciate your cheek. You're the last of our people. If we die out, so does the Light," her mother remarked calmly. 

"How can I forget, when you remind me constantly?" She clenched her fists angrily. "My whole life, I've been Victoria Maria Gates, the last great Seer of the house of Gryffindor. Protector of the Peace, Guardian of the Light of my people, blah, blah, blah. All I want to be is a normal witch with a normal life." 

"You're not normal, and you can't hide from who you are. We need children to survive." 

"We're not having this conversation right now, Mother." She was on the verge of tears and trembling with rage. "For the record, maybe I'd rather risk the destruction of our way of life instead of putting all this pressure on my descendants. And, I'm not a breeding horse, so don't _ever_ bring up this subject again." 

Victoria turned on her heel and blindly ran through the house and onto the patio for the second time that evening. Hot tears stung her cheeks. She wiped them off with the back of her hand and sat, brooding. 

"Is something wrong?" 

"N-no. I'm fine, thank you," she answered, wishing that Stephen would go away and leave her alone. 

"I think you're a great artist, by the way," he said out of the blue, passing her a drink, which instantly disappeared. 

"Really?" She smiled through her tears. "How would you know?" 

"I've been to art galleries, thank you very much." The effects of the night's worth of drinking were beginning to show. Victoria snorted. 

"You don't look like an art kind of guy." 

"I'm not. I was just passing by, and was curious. You know, I admire you." 

"Why's that?" she giggled. This conversation was getting stranger by the minute. 

"Because you stand up to your parents and do what you want to." 

"Oh, that." She waived her hand dismissively. "They don't care what I do, really, as long as I produce an heir to the family dynasty. Anyway, if you're so unhappy, why don't you quit?" 

"Quit?" 

"Yeah, just walk up my father, take a deep breath, and say, 'Mr. Gates, you're a boring prat, and I have better things to do with my life than deal with your crap. So, I quit.' Then go do whatever it is that you _really_ want to do." 

"I have no clue what that is, though," Stephen admitted. 

"So what? Just live a little." 

"Alright." 

He surreptitiously dropped a chocolate frog down the back of her robes, and laughed when she screamed and jumped up. She took the frog and smashed it on his face with a splatter. Suddenly, an idea flashed in her mind, an incredibly evil idea that she never would've considered had she been in her right mind. 

"Stephen, have you been on a tour of the house?" she asked, toying with her hair. 

"Of course. Why?" 

"No, I mean the _whole_ house. As in my part of the house." 

Victoria smiled innocently, hoping to lure him into her wing of the estate, which was permanently booby-trapped. She hated it when guests messed with her things, so when they did, the consequences were severe. And, if she remembered correctly, she still had some itching powder, not to mention prank candy. 

"Uh, no," he said nervously. 

She took him by the hand so that he couldn't escape, and led him across the grounds to her private porch. Not letting go of him, she opened the door and pulled him inside. "So, here's where I grew up." 

"Nice place," he managed to say. His family's estate was about the same size, and his own rooms were equally impersonal. There was nothing about this sitting room that made him think of Victoria. 

"Why don't you sit down," she said in her friendliest voice, pointing to a small settee. "Don't worry, no one knows we're here." 

"Ok," he replied, crossing the room and sitting down. His mind was working overtime, wondering why she brought him here. Victoria picked up a bowl of taffy and ate a couple of pieces before joining him on the settee. 

"Candy?" 

"Sure." As soon as he tasted the taffy, he knew that he had been tricked. He jumped up and spat out the candy in his hand, but it was too late. A quick look in the mirror confirmed that his teeth were indeed a deep shade of purple. He turned around and saw Victoria laughing hysterically, nearly about to fall on the floor. 

Not to be outdone, Stephen quickly put the taffy back in his mouth and chewed it furiously for a minute. Then he marched over to her and kissed her passionately, which quickly turned into snogging. When she realized what he was doing, Victoria shoved him away from her and looked in the mirror. 

"My teeth are purple. You made my teeth purple!" she hooted, collapsing on the floor in fits of laughter. She crawled across the room and continued snogging him, while steadily dumping itching powder down his robes. 

"Aaauuugghhh!" he screamed, flinging off his outer robes, which did little to stop the itching. 

"That's what you get for preying on innocent little girls," Victoria snickered. 

"Innocent? Not hardly," he grumbled, taking off his shirt and brushing off the powder. 

"Wow, you don't look half bad…" she began admiringly. He looked up with a defensive look on his face. 

"For a Ravenclaw prat? You honestly think that I spend all of my time working, don't you? Thank you for the lovely tour, but I must be heading home. Work in the morning and all." He balled up his clothing angrily and began to Disapparate. 

"Stephen, wait!" she called out, unknowingly slurring the words. 

He glared at her, causing Victoria to lose her train of thought. She rather fancied his grumpy stare, not to mention the sight of him in only his trousers. The corners of his face turned up in a slight smile, knowing she was far too prideful to chase after him. 

And he had wanted her for far too long to walk away. Even though somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, his conscience told him that they were far too inebriated to be doing this. Throwing his principles aside along with the clothing in his hands, he walked to where she was standing. 

"I'll leave if you want me to," he said after a couple of minutes, pulling her down to the floor with him. 

"Don't," she mumbled in his ear. That was all he needed to hear. 

~~~~~

  
Victoria woke up with a pounding headache, and flipped the pillow over her head to block out the sunlight. When her head hit the carpet, she realized that she wasn't at home. Well, she recognized the color as being in her sitting room at her parents' house, but she had no idea why she was there. Or why she was sleeping on the floor, for that matter. 

She yawned and groggily sat up, pulling the blanket with her. An annoyed snort followed by a hand reaching out to grab the covers caused her to jump, and drop the blanket. The hand found the edge of the thin comforter, slowly pulled it towards him, and disappeared. She gulped, feeling incredibly stupid. How did she end up in this situation? 

You know how, she lamented. The only question is _who_ that is? She took a deep breath, lifted the corner of the other pillow and immediately burst into tears as she began to remember the night before. Not wanting to wake Stephen, she silently stood, grabbed her belongings, and Disapparated to her bedroom at home. 

Which had a perfect view of his house from the window. She violently pulled down the blinds and threw herself on the bed, sobbing. An hour later, she heard a quiet knock on the door. 

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound normal. 

"Stephen Potter's downstairs, wanting to talk to you. What do you want me to tell him?" Juliana called through the closed door. 

"I'm not here," she sniffled. 

"Ok…" 

Victoria sat up and got herself together, knowing that Juliana would be back in a minute wanting an explanation. Sure enough, she tapped on the door, eyes widening at Victoria's red, puffy eyes and unkempt appearance. Juliana wheeled inside the room and closed the door tightly behind her. 

"What happened?" she asked gently, standing up slowly and waddling to sit beside Victoria on the bed. "Does it have to do with Stephen?" 

She nodded, crying too hard to speak. After crying on Juliana's shoulder for a few minutes, she blew her nose loudly. "We, uh, spent last night together." 

"How together?" 

"Together together. It was such a mistake." She began crying again. 

"Again, what happened? I thought he wasn't exactly on your favorite people list," Juliana wondered. 

"He's not. We were at my parents' party last night, and started talking. Which led to dancing and more talking. It was pretty fun, actually. The next thing I know, I woke up beside him on the living room floor." 

"Then what?" She sat up eagerly, her grey eyes shining with unasked questions. 

"I freaked out and Apparated home." 

"Why? Didn't you say that you had a fun time with Stephen?" 

"With as much as I had to drink, I would've had a fun time with anyone! How could I have been so stupid?" Victoria buried her head in a pillow dramatically. 

"Shh, it'll be all right," Juliana said soothingly. "Maybe you should talk to him about it. He did seem pretty eager to see you this morning." 

"I don't ever want to see him again," came her muffled reply from the pillow. 

~~~~~

  
Stephen cracked open the door, surprised to see Victoria nervously standing on the front porch, wringing a handkerchief in her hands. Since the night of the Christmas party a little over a month ago, she had avoided him, no matter how hard he tried to talk to her. He tried to hide his happiness to see her and put on a nonchalant expression. 

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, without a greeting. 

He nodded and swung open the door. Victoria couldn't help a small smile. Despite being a rather large house, a mansion really, it looked like any other bachelor dwelling. Sparse, mismatched furniture, bottles and other litter scattered on the floor, and the odd piece of clothing here and there from where he probably took it off and left it there. And of course, the requisite twenty or so Quiddich posters within eyesight. 

"You have a nice house," she admitted, looking around. It had plenty of potential, anyway. 

"Thanks. Graduation present from my parents." He shrugged. "I wouldn't have picked it, but beggars can't be choosers, huh?" 

"I would suppose not." She gathered up her courage and took a deep breath. Right when she began to speak, Stephen unknowingly interrupted her. 

"Would you like to sit down?" He had no idea to say, but she looked like she was upset about something. The deep circles under her eyes were a dead giveaway. 

"Yes, thank you." 

Stephen rushed over to his dilapidated couch and quickly shoved the clothes and litter on the floor. "Sorry about the mess." 

"No problem," Victoria lied. She was a neat freak, and fought the urge to take out her wand and straighten the room. 

"Well--" they said together. They nervously laughed. 

"You first," he said gallantly. 

"I guess there's no good way to say this other than to just say it," she babbled, her eyes tearing up. "I'm pregnant." 

"Pregnant?" he repeated in a high-pitched voice. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I went to the doctor yesterday to make sure." She quickly blotted away a tear with her handkerchief. Stephen sat silently for a minute, then jumped to his feet and started pacing up and down the living room. 

"How did this happen?" he asked, mostly to himself. "It was only one time. Ok, two, and then after that when you--" 

"I remember," she said sharply. 

"Weren't you on some sort of potion or something?" He stopped pacing and stared at her, still in shock. 

"No. Contrary to popular belief, I do not sleep around," she seethed. 

"I didn't mean it that way, Victoria. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, making every follicle stand on end, and resumed pacing. 

"I-I don't expect anything from you. I just thought that if word ever got around, that it's best that you heard it from me," she said, trying not to cry. 

"Does anyone else know, like your parents?" Stephen asked quietly, trying to gather his thoughts together. She shook her head no and burst into tears. 

"I've disgraced the family. That's exactly what Daddy will say, right before he turns me and the baby out," she said in between sobs. 

He knelt down in front of her and took her shaking frame in his arms. "No, he won't. Everything will settle down after the wedding--" 

"The _what_?" Victoria pulled away from him and gave him a look as if he was off his nut. 

"The wedding," he repeated slowly. "The sooner the better, I'm thinking." 

"Oh, no. One night together doesn't mean that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't need a mercy marriage to save my reputation." She buried her head in her handkerchief with the last few words. 

"Victoria, I--" his voice trailed off. 

Stephen didn't quite know what to say. He now understood that it was rude of him to assume that she told him about the baby because she wanted to marry him. Of course, had he really thought it through, he would've realized that nothing about Victoria was traditional. 

Which is why he loved her so much. But, apparently she didn't feel the same way about him, baby or no baby. And no matter what he said or did, she would only see it as him acting because of duty or honor, not love. 

"You don't need to say anything. No one will even know the baby's yours; I won't tell anyone. Just forget that I even came by." She stood up quickly and ran out of the house. 

~~~~~

  
Victoria entered the hospital room at St. Mungo's, trying to keep herself together for Juliana's sake. She gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and forced a smile on her face. Her friend looked so frail, which frightened her. 

"How's Sirius?" Juliana rasped in a whisper. "Perfect. He's a very quiet baby, hardly cries at all. Mostly just looks around at everything," she answered. "Why'd you name him after a star, anyway?" 

"Not _a_ star, the brightest star in the sky. That way, after I'm gone, he can look at the night sky and know that I'm looking down at him," she explained earnestly. 

"Don't say that. You're not going to die. You _can't_ die. I need you – especially now with the twins on the way, and--" 

"Twins?" Juliana's pale face turned up in a smile. 

She nodded. "A boy and a girl. I've Seen it." 

"What else have you Seen?" she asked. Victoria knew what she meant, and searched her memory for a minute. 

"Well, I had a vision of Sirius' eleventh birthday. And he kissed my daughter." 

"Did he really? Must be his father coming out in him." They both laughed, despite the gloominess of the situation. "Do they get together?" 

"I don't know. I Saw part of his wedding. It was outside, underneath a very tall tree. And the maid of honor was wearing yellow." Victoria wrinkled her nose. 

"Yellow?" Juliana's face was equally pursed. 

"Awful, isn't it? It's a bold color best confined to buttercups and the sun, which has no place at a solemn occasion. No way my daughter would have that poor of taste, so I have no idea who Sirius marries." 

"Anything else?" Her voice was getting weaker by the minute. 

"I had a vision yesterday of him, probably in his late fifties. I knew it was he because he favors you so strongly. Anyway, he was chasing a young blonde man, about our age, around a large estate with a gun." 

"What?" Her eyes flew open. 

"I didn't understand everything he was screaming, but most of it was incredibly profane. Then he started shooting at the poor boy, and I couldn't hear a thing." 

Juliana smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut as William walked into the room. He rushed to her side and took her cold, limp hand in his own. 

"No! Please wake up," he begged. "Please. I can't live without you." 

The attending nurse walked over, checked Juliana's pulse, and shook her head softly. Victoria sank limply to the floor and dissolved into tears. She pounded the floor angrily. How could the best friend that she'd ever had be dead, right when her life should be beginning? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair, not to Juliana, and especially not to her newborn son. Victoria curled into a ball and cried out her sorrow, right there on the hospital floor. 

  


~~~~~

  


Hope you enjoyed! –Pamela


	4. Chapter 4: Words of Honor

Chapter 4

Stephen kicked off his shoes at the door and turned on the bedroom lamps and threw off his heavy cloak as he crossed the room. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands, thinking. The past week had been incredibly difficult for him, watching Victoria grieve. 

Although he didn't know Juliana Black very well, he knew that she meant the world to Victoria. And he understood why. For the first time, she had a real friend, someone who really cared about her. Now, that was all gone, and she was left without anyone to confide in or support her through her pregnancy. 

She certainly doesn't want _my_ help, he thought sadly, leaning back on the bed. She made that perfectly clear at the funeral this morning. 

Depressed, he stood up and walked over to a mound of clothes on the floor to find something to wear other than uncomfortable dress robes. He unconsciously looked out of his window, and saw a figure walking around the garden in the backyard. Victoria, he realized, his heart aching in his chest. 

He watched her for a minute, and then kicked at his clothes to see if anything in the pile could be remotely considered clean. When he looked up, she was gone. As he turned around to inspect another clothes mound, something caught his eye. He squinted his eyes, realizing that the dark green heap on the ground was Victoria. Panicked, he Apparated at her side and rolled her over. She was out cold. 

"Victoria?" 

He put his hand on her face. She was burning up, and tiny beads of sweat were beginning to appear on her forehead. Without hesitation, Stephen gathered her in his arms and carried her inside his house, gently laying her on the living room sofa. 

"I'll be right back," he told her, just in case she was partially conscious. As fast as he feet could carry him, he ran next-door and pounded on the front door like a man possessed, completely forgetting he could Apparate inside if he wished. 

"Yes?" a matronly-looking woman asked in broken English. Stephen racked his brain for the little bit of Spanish that he knew. 

"Si. Senora Piedra, por favor. (Yes. Mrs. Piedra, please.)" 

He hoped that made at least a little bit of sense, and breathed a sigh of relief when the woman nodded and disappeared down the hallway. A formidable-looking woman walked down the hallway, and raised an eyebrow at the disheveled young man in front of her. 

"Can I help you?" she asked with a heavy accent, shifting the baby to her left arm so that she could shake his hand. 

"Is that your grandson?" he inquired, absent-mindedly shaking her hand. As an only child, Stephen didn't have much contact with babies, and marveled at how small he was. 

"Yes, this is Sirius. And you are?" 

"Stephen Potter. I live next door. I'm sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I really need a doctor fast for Victoria," he said in a rush. "And you were the first person I thought of, Doctor Piedra." 

She smiled soothingly, despite her own sorrow. "Mariana's fine. Let me put Sirius down for a nap, and I'll be back down in a minute." 

He nodded nervously, grateful that she was willing to help him. It seemed like an eternity before she reappeared, pulling on a cloak with one hand, and carrying a large doctor's bag in the other. There was something about her calm, professional demeanor that calmed Stephen as they walked the short distance between the two houses. 

"What happened?" the doctor asked, kneeling beside Victoria and checking her vital signs. 

"I'm not sure. I saw her walking around the garden one-minute, and the next she was passed out on the ground," Stephen replied, agitated. "Are she and the baby going to be all right?" 

"A baby, huh? Well, that certainly changes things a bit," Mariana said calmly, masking her surprise well. She'd bet anything that this polite young man was the child's father, so she gave him a reassuring look. "I'm going to need somewhere private to examine her. Do you have a guest bedroom set up?" 

"No, but if you'll give me a minute, I'll clean up my room." 

He rushed up the stairs, hastily straightened up the room, and ran back to the living room. Instead of levitating her, he decided to carry Victoria up the stairs. Mariana began to say that levitation was better for her in case the fall bruised or broke anything, but Stephen was so upset that she held her tongue. It wasn't a very tall staircase anyway, she rationalized. 

When he put Victoria down on his bed, she stirred slightly. She opened her eyes and looked around, puzzled. 

"Where am I?" she croaked out through dry lips. 

"You're in my bedroom," Stephen answered, grateful that she was conscious. "You passed out in the garden, and I brought you here." 

"You were spying on me?" She managed a surprising amount of indignation for someone barely speaking in a whisper. 

"It's a good thing, too," Dr. Piedra interrupted, sitting down beside Victoria and putting her doctor's bag at her feet. "So, I hear you're going to give my grandson a playmate." 

"Two." Victoria watched Stephen's eyes nearly bug out of his head. 

"Wh-what? You're having twins?" he asked. 

"It's not your concern," she hissed, shooting him a withering stare. 

"Yes, both you and my children _are_ my concern," he shot back, frustrated at her for continually shutting him out of her life. 

"One night, Stephen. That doesn't make me your concern. As for _our_ children, I told you that I'd take care of them myself. We don't need you," Victoria spat. He quickly turned away from her, trying to hide how much her words hurt him. 

"Well," the doctor said, acting as if the argument never occurred, "I'd like to examine you, Victoria. So, can you step outside for a minute, Stephen?" 

"Sure." His shoulders slumped as he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

"Just so you know, I-I'm not the type of girl who goes around having one night stands." The last thing she wanted was to have Juliana's mother think poorly of her. "It just sort of _happened_." 

"Lots of children _happen_, my dear," she replied reassuringly, squeezing Victoria's hand gently. The younger woman burst into tears. 

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm scared of what my parents will say or do. And, then there's Stephen. Sure, he's acting supportive now, but what about next month? Or, when I start showing and people start whispering? Will he stick around then?" 

Mariana embraced her in a motherly hug, something Victoria had never really experienced. "Shhh. Even if your parents disown you, and Stephen doesn't claim the children, things will turn out all right. You're a young one, but plenty healthy. And you have a strong will to survive, which is the most important thing of all." 

"A will to survive didn't save Juliana," she sobbed against the doctor's shoulder, who laughed softly. 

"That girl had too much of her father in her. Didn't see the danger of anything, and didn't listen to reason. And just like her father, she ran headlong into an early grave. But, they both lived their lives without regrets, so who are we to judge? Perhaps she knew that her time was limited, and that baby is her way of living on after her body gave out. In any case, you're not doomed to her fate, Victoria. Women have babies every day without any trouble, and there's no reason why you shouldn't be one of them." 

"Really?" Victoria asked hopefully. 

"Really. However, you should see a doctor right away. If you want, I'll owl your regular doctor, or I could examine you myself. Whatever you want," Mariana said kindly. 

"I'd rather have you do it, if you don't mind," she answered quietly. 

Dr. Piedra smiled at the nervous look on the young woman's face, and asked a few general questions at first to put her at ease. While she was a noted pediatrician in the medical community, she also practiced obstetrics when needed. And, as a doctor to poor patients in rural Spain, an obstetrician was often needed. 

An incredibly weary Victoria greatly appreciated the doctor's warm bedside manner, something quite lacking in the doctors at St. Mungo's. When Mariana finished her examination, she took out her prescription pad and wrote out instructions for several potions. She also gave Victoria a long talk on how to regain and maintain her strength. 

"Do you have any questions?" Mariana asked sincerely. 

"No, thank you. I've learned more from you in fifteen minutes than from any of the books I've read," she admitted, smiling shyly. 

"Years of experience." She winked and stood up. "Would you like for me to talk to Stephen for you?" 

"Yes, please," she said gratefully, wanting to limit her contact with him to a minimum. 

She sincerely hoped that all would go well for Victoria. The poor girl looked scared to death, although she hid it well. As for Stephen, he looked equally petrified when Mariana walked outside. 

"How's Victoria? Is she all right? What about the babies?" he asked in a rush, with eyes begging for her to tell him that everything would be fine. 

"The twins – and she is expecting twins – are developing normally." Mariana paused for a minute while Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. "However, Victoria is quite ill. She hasn't been eating or sleeping properly since learning that she was pregnant." 

"It's my fault. If I had chased after her that day instead of letting her go…" He hung his head ashamedly as his voice trailed off. 

"You care for her, don't you?" 

"No. I don't just care for her. I love her more than anything, and have ever since I can remember." Stephen didn't know why he was pouring out his heart to a virtual stranger, but once he started, he just couldn't stop. "Victoria keeps talking about 'one night'. It wasn't some random thing to me. I want to take care of her and the children, if only she'd let me." 

"Well, she's going to need someone to look after her. I've prescribed at least a week of bed rest. She shouldn't do anything but eat and sleep," Mariana said carefully, seeing if he'd take the bait. The couple obviously desperately loved each other, but could certainly benefit from a little meddling and matchmaking. And, some quality time with each other, for that matter. 

"What about her art? I've never seen Victoria without paint in her hair and a sketchpad, except for when she's at her parents' house." 

His worried expression amused the doctor. "Yes, she's already asked about that. And she's allowed to draw, but not do anything else." 

"Did she say she was going to her parents' house? She probably won't want to go there," Stephen said to himself. "I have plenty of space here, and I could get anything that she wanted or needed. That is, if Victoria agreed to it. I think she'd rather sleep on a park bench than depend on me for anything, though." 

"I don't think she'd be objecting to much right now," Mariana winked, checking a pocket watch. 

"What do you mean?" His eyes widened. 

"I slipped a sleeping potion into her water. She'll probably be out for a few hours. After that, she'll be very groggy for a couple of days. You might want to hire a nurse to look after her." 

"No, I'll take off work. I couldn't work knowing that she's here sick, anyway. You don't know how much I appreciate you coming here and all. I know it's not a good time for your family, and I'm really sorry about your daughter," Stephen said sincerely. 

"Thank you. Just take care your own little family, and we'll call it even," she said lightly, putting on her cloak. "Owl me if Victoria starts running a fever, or if she's in a great deal of pain." 

"I'll do that." 

He walked the doctor downstairs and let her out of the front door. Before going upstairs to check on Victoria, he wrote a quick note to work, saying that he would be out of the office for a week or so. He didn't give details, in case Mr. Gates received the owl. Hoping that no one would come by asking questions, he tied the parchment to his owl and sent her off to the bank. 

Grabbing the sports section out of the _Daily Prophet_, Stephen headed back to his room. Sure enough, Victoria was sound asleep. He couldn't help admiring how beautiful and peaceful she looked. 

"I _do_ love you," he whispered, sitting down beside her. 

He softly kissed the top of her head, which reminded him to check her for a fever. Luckily, he remembered the temperature-taking charm, and was relieved that she wasn't fevered. So, he conjured up a chair from downstairs and read the latest Quiddich news until she stirred. 

"Wh-where am I?" she asked with a dry mouth. "And why is the room spinning?" 

"You're still at my house. Close your eyes for a minute and the spinning should stop," he replied, putting down the paper and crossing the room. 

Victoria looked at him with weary, sickly eyes. "Go away, Potter." 

"Considering that this is my house, and you're laying in my bed, that's a pretty rich thing to say." He was relieved that she felt well enough to insult him, even if she did have a tendency to hurt his feelings. "Are you hungry?" 

"Huh?" She was confused. Was he actually being _nice_ to her? 

"Are you hungry?" he repeated. "There's this Chinese place down the street that makes great Wanton soup." 

"How did you know that's my favorite soup?" she wondered, impressed. 

"Lucky guess. Anyway, I'll be back in a few." Stephen disapparated with a small pop and reappeared a few minutes later carrying a large paper bag. He took out a large container of soup, passing it to Victoria along with a spoon. 

"Thanks," she said somewhat grudgingly, beginning to laugh. "What are you _doing_?!?" 

"Eating," he replied, as if this was completely obvious. 

"You're eating Chinese food with a fork?" 

"Uh, yeah." 

Victoria gave him an incredulous look. "You're supposed to eat Chinese food with chopsticks." 

"I can't use chopsticks," he admitted. 

"Here, let me teach you." She conjured up two pairs of chopsticks, and showed him how to hold them properly. "See, like this." 

She giggled watching him chase broccoli around the plate, trying to pick up a stalk. Stephen would've given up on the chopsticks and went back to his fork, except that Victoria was actually paying him attention. After watching him for a minute, she began giving him pointers on the fine art of chopsticks. He actually began to get the hang of it, but pretended like he wasn't. 

"How'd you learn how to do this so well, anyway?" he wondered. 

"I had a Chinese nanny for a while when I was little. She ate _everything_ with chopsticks," Victoria explained, deftly picking up a piece of beef. She held out the food and grinned. "Here." 

"Help yourself," he said, a little confused. 

"No, this is for you. Are you going to eat it or stare at it?" 

"Eat it, I guess." He hesitatingly leaned forward and ate the food off her chopsticks. "Thanks." 

"Anytime." She picked up a bamboo shoot and playfully flung it on his forehead. 

"Hey, that's not fair," he protested with a smile, wiping off his face. Sick or not, Victoria declared war. So, he took a handful of sticky rice and plopped it on her hair. 

"Ewwwww! You asked for it, Potter," she screeched, dumping the remainder of her lukewarm soup in his lap. 

A full-blown food fight quickly broke out. Stephen tried to be easy on her, but she kept attacking him. So, he had no choice but to retaliate. It was a matter of honor, after all. Somehow, a hysterically laughing Victoria ended up in his arms, her face only inches from his. 

Their eyes met, and the room fell deathly silent as they stared at each other, wondering what the other was thinking. On a crazy impulse, she kissed him. Which turned into snogging until Victoria suddenly realized that the last time something like this happened, she ended up pregnant. And that no matter how wonderful he seemed, she didn't fully trust him. 

"I-I think that we had better clean up," she whispered, pulling away from him. "We're really good at making messes, aren't we?" 

He smiled ironically at her double meaning. "Yeah, I guess we are." 

~~~~~ 

Victoria hummed to herself as she walked down the back staircase to the kitchen. She cheerfully searched the cabinets for something to cook for tea. Because her mother considered cooking servants' work, she naturally spent all of her spare time in the kitchens. Stephen walked into the room and leaned against the doorframe. 

"What are you doing, trying to poison me?" he asked jokingly. She turned around in a huff with her hands on her hips. 

"I will have you know that I am an excellent cook, thank you very much. And who said that I was cooking for you in the first place?" 

"Fair enough. Aren't you supposed to be on bed rest?" 

Her eyes narrowed at him. "But, I'm so bored. And hungry. Stephen, the way your cabinets are arranged make no sense. Where do you keep your flour?" 

"I don't own any flour. Victoria, less than twenty-four hours ago you were barely conscious. I leave you for a half hour to get your things from next door, and you're already disobeying doctor's orders." 

"Just because I agreed to stay here for a few days doesn't give you the right to start bossing me around," she reminded him, waving a spatula in his face. "I'm suddenly craving pot roast. And German chocolate cake." 

"Your wish is my command. I'll have whatever you want delivered. Come on, can't you go back to bed? I put all of your stuff in the bedroom you picked out," he said, knowing that the prospect of unpacking her art supplies would lure her back upstairs. She stood for a minute, considering his request. 

"Fine. Only because this is my favorite time of day to draw. Call me when the food's here?" 

"Sure." 

He watched her turn and go back up the staircase, unaffected by her abrasive attitude. It didn't even really bother him that she insisted on staying in the bedroom furthest from his because she was in the house. Which was a major victory in and of itself. 

As he tied the food order to his owl's leg, the doorbell rang. His stomach hit the ground when he opened the door. Standing on the front porch in crisp business robes was the last man on earth he wanted to see – Victoria's father. 

"Good afternoon, Stephen," he said evenly. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gates," he responded in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice. "Can I help you?" 

"Well, I was on my way next door to pay my condolences. I received your owl this morning. Is everything all right with you? Because I saw your father earlier today and he didn't know what was going on." 

"Everything's fine. Just taking some vacation time." He shrugged. 

"Stephen James Potter, you promised me that you'd let me know when the food came! I know heard the doorbell ring. Never come between a pregnant woman and her food," a voice bellowed from upstairs, followed by a rapid cadence of footsteps. 

"Is that--" Mr. Gates began, giving Stephen a cold stare. Before he could answer, Victoria appeared in the foyer, still in her pajamas. She froze in her tracks, paralyzed. 

"Daddy." 

"Victoria, humor an old man who doesn't hear so well sometimes," he said, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "Did you just say that you were pregnant?" 

"Yes, sir." She raised her chin defiantly, but Stephen could see her knees shaking. 

"I see. May I come in?" It was a statement, not a question. Mr. Gates stormed inside. His massive height and stature towered over petite Victoria. "Let's sit down and have a talk." 

Stephen greatly resented him inviting himself into his house and ordering Victoria around like she was his property. No wonder she has such a rebellious nature, he thought. But, he was her father and his boss, so he checked his temper for the time being. 

"Does this child have a father?" Mr. Gates roared. 

"Obviously," his daughter spat. "Children, Daddy. I'm having twins, which should make you and Mum overjoyed. An heir and a spare." 

"Name the father." 

"Sir,--" Stephen began, but was quickly overpowered by Victoria. 

"No, I won't. The consequences of my choices are mine alone to bear. One night shouldn't impact lives like that, because I know what you'd do. You'd take out your vault keys and try to pay my children's father to marry me. And if that didn't work, you'd just turn me out. I'd much rather be disowned than trapped in a loveless marriage. My children deserve better than that, and so do I." 

"Brava. Very noble of you," Mr. Gates seethed. "He's a worthless Muggle, isn't he? You tainted our family by sleeping with some Muggle that wouldn't even want you if he knew what you are. Either that or you've had so many men that you couldn't name a father if you tried. I'm not a stupid man, so don't insult my intelligence. Go get dressed." 

"Why?" she asked, even though she knew what he was going to say next. 

"Because I'm taking you to St. Mungo's myself to resolve this situation." His tone of voice left no room for argument. 

"No. They are children, not a 'situation' to dispose of. I'm not going." She clutched her midsection protectively. 

"Yes, you will," he roared. "By wizarding law, I have final say on what happens to your illegitimate children, daughter." 

Stephen looked at Mr. Gates in disbelief. He couldn't believe that anyone could be so cruel to Victoria. Or that he would invoke the old, dated wizarding customs that were hardly ever followed anymore. Unfortunately, he was right. Unless— 

"She's not going," Stephen said, in an authoritative voice. If Victoria's father wanted to play by the old-fashioned rules, so be it. No one treated her like property, and he vowed to make sure that it never happened again. "By custom, she is bound to my authority, not yours." 

"What are you talking about, young man?" Both men stood until they were nearly eye-to-eye. 

"Victoria is carrying _my_ children." 

"And how are you certain of that?" 

"Are you questioning my word?" Stephen's eyes flashed fire as he fought the urge to knock Victoria's father's teeth out. 

"No, your word of honor is sufficient." The tension in the room was palpable. 

"Good, because I never want paternity to be an issue again. I claim my children, and will legitimate them when they're born. And, I've offered my home and everything I have to Victoria, and to her alone. As you can see," Stephen pointed to her still seated on the sofa in her nightclothes, "she's amenable to this arrangement. By wizarding customs, that makes her my consort." 

"Your _what_?" Victoria interrupted, wondering what on earth he was saying. Whatever it was, she didn't like it. Especially when her father smiled and clasped Stephen's shoulder like a son. 

"My common-law wife," Stephen explained in a much softer tone of voice, wincing when her chin quivered a bit. 

He didn't like this any more than she did, but it was the only way he could keep her father from bullying her. Hopefully she would realize that he didn't buy into the old paternalistic attitudes about women. It was all an act, and as soon as he could kick Mr. Gates out of his house, he'd explain this to her. Until then, he had to play the part of a classic chauvinist pig. And from the look on Victoria's face, he was doing a better job than even he intended. 

Victoria froze to the sofa cushion, sitting as still as her favorite statue in her parents' gardens. The single word _wife_ played over and over in her mind. Neither man noticed the faraway, glazed look in her eyes. That one word was far worse and imprisoning than even the Dementors' Kiss. At least then, she wouldn't realize what a shell of a human being she had become. 

Her whole life, she had rebelled and fought against this very moment. It was as if she was in a tiny raft floating down a raging river, with only a broken oar to help her get to shore. But, no matter what she did, she still ended up exactly as her parents wanted her to be. So, without warning, the raft reached the end of the river and plunged her over the falls towards the cold, cruel reality of life as a trophy wife. 

Mrs. Stephen Potter. That was her identity now. Victoria wanted to scream, cry, run, all at the same time. However, her pride caused her to sit silently, emotionless. The two men standing in front of her could take her freedom away in a heartbeat, but they wouldn't see her shed a single tear about it. The room began to spin in wild circles that became faster and faster as she fought with every ounce of her being to keep her emotions under control. 

She vaguely listened to Stephen excuse her earlier "rudeness" with some lame, sexist reference to pregnancy hormones that her father accepted without question. When asked why they kept things a secret, Stephen said that they decided a formal handfasting ceremony was inappropriate considering that Victoria's best friend had just passed away. So, they chose to quietly go by the common law tradition instead until a sufficient mourning period had passed. 

Stephen disgusted himself with how easily he was able to worm his way into Mr. Gates' good graces. To her father, Victoria's marriage was an alliance between families, nothing more. He saw how quickly things changed when he clamed her as his own. As he continued to talk to the older wizard, Stephen suddenly realized what he wanted to do with his life. Change the laws somehow so that this scenario could never repeat itself for future generations. 

"At least I know why you took off work, son," Mr. Gates said jovially. "Enjoy your honeymoon, and take as much time as you want. Your job will be waiting for you whenever you want it." 

"Thank you, sir," he replied respectfully, although he had no intention of stepping into Gringotts' bank as an employee ever again. Stephen made a mental note to speak to his own father about getting a job at the Ministry. 

"You're lucky, Victoria. Not every man would be as honorable as your husband is. Treat him with respect he deserves," her father warned her in a harsh voice. 

"I will, Daddy." She smiled sweetly as the life-saving raft that shielded her from a meaningless existence hit the rocks below, and splintered into a thousand pieces, pitching her into the swirling currents. She was drowning, with no sign of rescue. 

After a few more minutes of small talk, Mr. Gates excused himself to go next door, much to Stephen's relief. When he returned to the living room, Victoria looked at him with a completely unreadable expression. Her face appeared waxy, lifeless, as if she was a mannequin in a dress shop. 

"Victoria?" he spoke her name, beginning to be frightened. She wasn't even blinking, just staring at him unresponsively. "Victoria, I didn't mean anything that I just said." 

"I don't believe you," she said in a lilting tone, the one she used when at a dinner party. Stephen ran his fingers through his hair and began pacing. 

"I didn't know what else to do. Your father was standing there yelling at you like you were his property. I couldn't take him talking to you that way." 

"So, you decided to claim me. My hero," she said flatly. "Where did you come up with that common law stuff, anyway?" 

"Clerking for my dad's law firm in the summer. Picked up a thing or two." He shrugged. 

"How convenient." 

Victoria sat silently for another minute. Then, something snapped deep inside her, and a torrent of emotion poured out. Her hands flew to her face and she screamed as loudly as she could. A painful, mournful terrible wail that made Stephen wonder if she was part banshee. 

"You tricked me!" she bellowed. "I trusted you, and you tricked me!" 

"No. No, Victoria, I didn't trick you, I swear. Please believe me," he begged, kneeling in front of her. She shoved him as roughly as she could, and then smacked him across the face, leaving a red handprint. Stephen's eyes watered, and the room spun for a minute. 

"I should've Seen this coming," she lamented, throwing up her hands in anguish. "After all, I _am_ a Seer. And, I've always Seen that I'm supposed to have two beautiful children that favor me. But, if I had _ever_ Seen anything to indicate that you, Stephen Potter, would be their father, I would've been sterilized!" 

Her words sliced him to the core, hurting him far worse than any slap ever could. But, he knew that if their roles were reversed, he'd probably feel the same way. It truly was unfair that she was at his mercy. As he watched Victoria sob despondently, he realized that some man could pull the exact same crap with _his_ daughter one day. Which infuriated him. 

"Victoria, I'm sorry that you feel that way," he said evenly, causing her to stop crying mid-sob and blink at him oddly. " Tomorrow morning, I'm going to my father's firm to talk to him about this project I want to do. If I come home and you're not here, I won't make you come back. And, I won't follow you." 

"Wh-what?" she sniffled. 

"If anyone asks questions, I'll say you went on an extended holiday because of your health. Which wouldn't be an entirely bad idea. You've been through hell and back, and you deserve a nice holiday. And, I lied to you earlier," he continued. 

"Oh?" 

"I meant what I said about the children. All I really ask of you is that you let me claim and support them." 

"Sure." Victoria couldn't believe he was giving her a way out of the prison her life had become. Her outlook brightened at the idea of packing her things and kissing London and her family goodbye to begin a whole new life. 

"I'll make arrangements with the bank in the morning." Stephen stood and walked out of the room as quickly as his feet could carry him before she could seem him cry. 

~~~~~

Wow! Thanks to my two reviewers:

Cassie – Hope you enjoyed so far! :-D

DryRain – Thanks! Yeah, I hope to post more on Evil soon, too. Just a matter of finding the time to write, lol!

As usual, thanks for reading, & please review? Pretty please? *grins*


	5. Chapter 5: Love versus the Law

Chapter 5

Every time I read that part, it makes me so mad. I completely relate to Mummy P. I couldn't imagine Papa being able to dictate my life choices. Not that he doesn't _try_, but that's another concept entirely. At least I can tell him to bugger off, which always starts a big row. No one tells Sirius Black to shove off without hearing an earful of exactly what you didn't want him to put his nose in. 

Point being, I couldn't imagine being in Mummy P's position. The next morning, she packed up her belongings and took the first boat to San Sebastian, Spain. Abuela had a summer cottage there, and invited Mummy P to stay there as long as she wanted. It's a beautiful little place on the water. 

And Daddy P (I can't call him Stephen, partially because I'm desperately in love with his quasi-namesake – again, another story) kept his word. He came home to an empty house, which completely broke his heart. However, it made him completely determined to win Mummy P's heart. 

The spring passed, with Mummy P spending her days thinking at the shore. Often, her gaze turned northward towards London, although she wouldn't admit it, even to herself. And Daddy P quit his job at the bank, taking an entry-level position at the Ministry. He was a man on a mission, and he wouldn't go see her until he had accomplished his goals. 

Often, Abuela would come to see Mummy P and bring Papa with her. My Grandfather Black lost his mind, more or less, when Grandma Juliana died. He walked around the house like a zombie for a week. Then, he started drowning his grief in alcohol. After losing his parents, I guess his heart couldn't take any more loss. So, he shut everyone and everything out, including Papa. 

Abuela couldn't stand the idea of her grandson being raised by a strange nanny, so she took him to Spain with her. They roamed the countryside together as she made her rounds. Whenever she was in the northeast part of the country, they'd visit for a while. Life became somewhat routine after a while, and spring blossomed into summer… 

~~~~~ 

  
Victoria slowly stood up, taking a minute to get her balance before letting go of the armchair. This was her least favorite part of the day – bedtime. The minutes before she fell asleep were often lonely and she worked hard to keep unwanted thoughts out of her mind. She crossed the room, picked up a quill, and crossed another day off the calendar. 

One less day before the babies arrive. And one more day she managed to keep from thinking about Stephen. She set her jaw, waddled to her bedroom, and attempted to settle into bed. More often than not, the twins sensed her stillness, which inspired them to stage their own entertainment for at least an hour. They were quite active, and as Victoria ruefully looked at her figure – quite large. 

But, as shocking as becoming a mother at twenty had been at first, she found herself looking forward to their arrival. She made a mental note to put the finishing touches on the nursery in the morning, wanting to finish everything before she became too large to work for extended periods of time. 

She utilized a number of charms in an effort to lie more comfortably, eventually falling asleep… 

_The air was damp, and cold. Victoria wrapped her shawl around her small body tighter, trying to fight off the chill. She lay down on her palette and cried hot tears on the pillow, waiting for the familiar sound of the air raid sirens. This was the worst part of the night – the nervous anticipation. _

_"__Mary?" she whispered to another little girl sleeping about five feet away. _

_"__Yeah?" the girl hissed back. _

_"__Shhhh! Some people are trying to sleep," came another voice. _

_"__Sod off, Stephen," Victoria snapped. _

_"__I would, if you'd shut your trap for five minutes," Stephen replied. "I can't get a bloody wink of sleep once the Nazis show up." _

_"__Well, I can't sleep, knowing that they're flying for us right now," a tiny voice cried out in the dark. _

_"__It's ok, Lara. You can come over here with me," Victoria said comfortingly. _

_She lit a lantern, illuminating the small wine cellar. Large barrels of wine took up the majority of the space, leaving little room for the six children who made the cellar home during the long nights. _

_Two months prior, the London wizarding families fled to the Gates estate, which was just outside city limits. During the day, the children continued their studies and pretended life was normal. _

_But as soon as the sun set, they ate a quick dinner and went to the cellar to escape the bomb blasts. The underground room wasn't large enough for everyone, so their mothers and grandmothers busied themselves with extinguishing the fires from the air raids. _

_A small redheaded girl flew into Victoria's arms, and they clung to each other as the sirens went off. She scanned the room; each familiar face etched with worry and fear that tonight would be the night that something bad would happen. That morning may never come. _

_The first bomb hit the ground with a deafening thud, too close to home for comfort. Mary Bones huddled close to her little sister Lara and Victoria. Samantha Johnson and John Britt quickly joined them. Stephen bravely pretended that he wasn't at all scared, and sat about five feet away from the girls. _

_"__I'm scared," three-year-old Samantha whispered, beginning to cry. _

_"__Don't be," Stephen answered confidently. "My dad's the best pilot in the Royal Air Force. He can fly faster and better than any Nazi, and he won't let any of them hurt us." _

_"__I miss my daddy," Lara wailed. "He's on a ship far away." _

_"__So's mine," John added, his lower lip trembling. _

_"__Why do our fathers have to fight in the bloody Muggle war, anyway?" Mary raged. _

_"__It's our war, too," Stephen said, scooting closer to them. "What happens if the Muggles lose and we're invaded by the Nazis? Do you know what they do to magical people? They kill us, that's what." _

_"__That's not true," John disputed him. _

_"__It is true. They're attacking all of Britain, not just the Muggles. Dad told me that's why he quit playing Quiddich and joined the Royal Air Force. To protect all of us," Stephen continued. Victoria looked at him, amazed. He may be a prat, but he really knew how to talk to people. _

_"__What'll happen when the war's over?" Samantha asked, not really remembering what life used to be like. _

_"__Well," Victoria began, "we'll sleep in our beds at night. The sky will be full of stars instead of airplanes. Our fathers will come home and we'll be families again. Oh, and the food." _

_"__Like milk for breakfast?" Lara inquired hopefully. _

_"__Yes. And chocolate bars," Stephen added, smiling at the memory. "We'll eat candy until we almost explode. Then, we'll walk around Diagon Alley and there will be toys in the toy stores." _

_"__We'll have Christmas trees again," Victoria said dreamily. The other children were so spellbound listening to her and Stephen, they didn't hear the bombing outside. _

_"__The Quiddich store will have more supplies than they can sell in a year." _

_"__Don't forget the ice cream store! The sugar cones that melt in your mouth…" _

_"__No more dirty wine cellar!" Victoria called out joyfully, throwing her hands up in the air. _

_"__No more--" _

Victoria woke up with a start, hearing a loud wailing. For a second, she was mentally transported to when she was a little girl during World War II. But, she shook herself out of the panicky feeling by reminding herself that this is San Sebastian, not London. And that there are no Nazi bombers here. 

However, there was a piercing noise in the air not altogether unlike an air raid siren, which showed no signs of stopping. In a groggy haze, she struggled to get to her feet and walked into the nursery where a small baby lay in a crib screaming his lungs out. She reached down and scooped the little boy up, yawning. 

"What's the matter?" she asked, as if he could answer her. He immediately stopped crying and smiled. "You're kidding me. Sirius, this isn't funny." 

She put the baby back down and turned to leave the room. His face turned red and immediately let out an indignant howl. Victoria wearily turned around and put her hands on her hips. He grinned and looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. Juliana's eyes. 

"I'm such a softie," she muttered, picking Sirius up and walking back towards her bedroom. He was asleep before she reached the hallway. "Guess you were just lonely, then. Well, I can understand that." 

Victoria sighed sadly. Even before the War, her parents were always distant. Her part of the estate was at the opposite side of the house from her parents. When she woke up with nightmares, no one was around to hear her cry. It was a very isolated existence. 

She swore that things would be different for her own children as she put Sirius down on the bed beside her. Other than being a bit of an attention hog, he couldn't be a better-behaved baby. Usually he was simply content to lie on the floor and watch Victoria paint. 

About a month before, a minor flu epidemic broke out in Toledo. Sirius' Abuela, as Mariana was now termed, asked Victoria if she would care for the baby so that she could help out the already overworked doctors. 

Victoria was all too happy to agree. The little boy was all that remained of the best friend that she'd ever had. It amazed her how much life he brought to the little cottage. He found everything highly fascinating, especially anything having to do with bubbles or making loud noises. She reminded herself to give him a bath later as she put up charms so that she wouldn't roll over on him. 

"You know this is just for tonight, right?" she asked the soundly sleeping baby, before dozing off. 

~~~~~

  
A muffled knock at the front door woke Victoria from a sound sleep. She opened an eye slowly and checked the clock. Noon. Heaving a heavy sigh, she threw on her robe, frowning when it didn't completely wrap around her. The knock became louder, so instead of finding something else to wear, she went to the door in her nightgown and an open robe that she swore fit just two days ago. 

Besides, it was probably Mariana anyway. She stopped by a couple times a week to check on the two of them. Although it was her house, she always had the courtesy to knock and wait to be invited in. Victoria smiled at her kindness. If it hadn't been for the older witch's support, she didn't know how she would've made it through the past few months. 

She smiled broadly before opening the door, full of cute stories to tell the doting grandmother about Sirius from the past three days. Her smile froze in place, and she stood in the doorway, staring. It wasn't the doctor at all. Victoria tried to say something – anything – but no words came. 

"Hello, Victoria." 

"St-Stephen," she replied in greeting, finding her tongue. 

His eyes took in her incredibly rounded figure without comment. She desperately wished that her robe fit. At least then she wouldn't feel so exposed. Stephen didn't quite know what to say, either. Well, he knew _what_ he wanted to say, but not how to say it. 

"Can I come in?" he asked hopefully. She nodded curtly. 

"Sure, but you need to be quiet." 

"All right," Stephen said slowly, walking inside the cottage. 

"He'll sleep until one o'clock or so if he's not disturbed. But, he sleeps so lightly that anything wakes him up unless he's with me. Would you like to see him? He's the only man in my life these days." 

She said the last part a bit warningly. If Stephen came here to try to boss her around or take her home, he had another think coming. Victoria turned around and began walking in the direction of her bedroom, so she didn't see Stephen's face fall despondently. 

It was heartbreaking enough that Victoria was with another man. She didn't need to rub his nose in it. And he certainly didn't want to meet this "other man" who was good enough to raise _his_ children. But, he invited himself here, so Stephen followed her down the hallway out of politeness. 

Victoria waddled into her room and tiptoed to the bed. Sure enough, Sirius was wide-awake, scowling. She motioned for Stephen to come closer. With slow, plodding steps he crossed the room, where a grumpy baby stared up at him. Puzzled, he looked at Victoria with questioning eyes. 

"This--" he stammered. 

"Stephen Potter," she said, lowering herself on the bed, "meet Sirius Black, the baby Don Juan. Somehow he has wormed his way into my bed every night for the past few weeks. If I'm this easy, there's no hope for the rest of the female population. Quite a charmer." 

You're a lucky little man, Stephen thought, looking at the baby. Maybe you can give me a pointer or two when you learn to talk. 

Victoria watched Stephen's face turn up in an odd smile. He began laughing, softly at first, but soon he was clutching his sides. Sirius watched him, fascinated by the bizarre display. 

"What's so funny?" Victoria asked, looking at him strangely. 

"I-I'm sorry," he snorted. "I thought you were…and he's a – a baby." 

"Yes, Sirius is a baby. What's your point?" 

"Never mind," Stephen answered hastily, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But, he immediately began laughing again at the idea of being jealous of an infant. 

"So, what brings you here?" Victoria narrowed her eyes suspiciously, standing up. She levitated Sirius to her and headed towards the kitchen to fix him a bottle. "Would you like something? Tea?" 

"Sure. Can I help you with something?" He watched her balance the baby, a teakettle, and a bottle all at once. 

"No. I get along just fine by myself. Which brings me back to my question. Why are you here?" 

"To tell you something," Stephen began bravely. 

"Which is?" 

"Well, remember the morning that you left and I went to my dad's firm?" He paused as she nodded while feeding the baby. "I went to ask him to help me get a job at the Ministry." 

"What for?" Victoria asked distractedly, placing about ninety percent of her attention on Sirius. 

"When your dad was yelling at you like you, I realized how unequal the laws are between men and women. This is probably going to sound really cheesy, but I didn't want you or any other woman to be treated that way again. So, I proposed a new set of laws to replace the old ones." 

"Oh?" She looked up, now genuinely interested. 

"Yes. The old common laws are gone, which means that you're a free woman. I know I promised not to come find you, but I had to tell you that. The Minister signed the new laws in yesterday. I brought you a copy." 

Stephen smiled sheepishly and removed a thick roll of parchment from his robe pocket. He held it out to her. She unrolled the parchment, and scanned the tiny, precise writing. Every once in a while, an approving smile flashed over her face. It was worth all the months of work and lobbying to see the happiness in her eyes when she finished reading. 

"Why did you do this?" she couldn't help asking. 

"Because I love you," he blurted out before he could stop himself. "I want to make you happy, Victoria. If you want me to leave, I will. I'll walk right back out of that front door and leave you be, like I did before. But, I really want a chance to show you that I'm not like your father." 

"You already did." She smiled softly and tapped the parchment lightly. 

"I didn't come here with any expectations. Just to tell you that we're in no way, shape or form married, and to make you an offer." 

Victoria suddenly scowled. "I don't need any blood money, thank you very much. Even though Daddy signed all of my assets over to you, now they're mine again. The law says so. Take your vault keys and go." 

"That wasn't my offer. I have some vacation time built up, and I was wondering if I could help you out around here. Twins are a handful. Especially if they're a combination of us." He winked and looked at Sirius. "Now, I'm not trying to kick you out of your bed or anything. I see you have a good thing going, and I'm no home wrecker. You're the man of the house, and I respect that. Do you think that if it's okay with Victoria, that I could crash on the couch for a while?" 

The baby stared at him while she burst out laughing. Stephen did have a humorous way of putting things. Although she wouldn't admit it, she always liked spending time with him. 

"Ok, fine," she caved in. Her stomach fluttered a bit at his happy grin, and it wasn't because of the twins. If she didn't watch it, she could really fall for him. "Just until the babies come." 

~~~~~ 

  
_Loud explosions sounded in the air, making Victoria jump and look around wildly. Muffled screams and cries echoed behind her. She turned around and her knees buckled. The worst had somehow happened – Hogwarts castle was under attack. Or would be very, very soon. _

_She jumped to her feet, amazed at her freedom of movement without the twins. They must not be true Seers, or their powers would've brought them along for the ride. She said a quick prayer of thanks. Being a Seer was an incredible burden most of the time. _

_A flash of bright green light illuminated the sky. Curious, she ran then length of the Great Hall and onto the grounds. Hogsmeade was on fire, and a large skull hovered over the entire town. Victoria involuntarily shuddered at the sight of this unknown evil. Whenever this battle took place, it was not soon. _

_"__Papa, I'm fighting. This is my battle, too. You can't make me hide in the catacombs with Nick and Meggie," a female teenage voice protested. _

_"__You're not strong enough to fight," her father said. Both figures came into view, causing Victoria to gape at them. The girl especially, who had Stephen's bushy, caramel colored hair. She knew the man as the adult Sirius Black. _

_This battle was sooner than she realized. A sinking feeling settled into her stomach, knowing the futility of warning anyone of this. No matter what she said or did, this future scene would take place, anyway. _

_"__I'm the strongest witch of my generation, and you know it. You need me," she said pleadingly. _

_"__I need you alive. The Dark Lord has a personal vendetta with Harry. You're not his primary target. The survival of our people depends on one of you staying alive. Come on." _

_Sirius' voice left no room for protest. Victoria followed them, navigating the familiar pathways and tunnels under the castle. She knew these passageways by heart, realizing that they were going to the innermost catacomb. The castle was expected to fall, otherwise this retreat wouldn't be necessary. _

_At the doorway to the large cavern stood an incredibly tall blonde-haired woman, hurrying the students and refugees from Hogsmeade inside. At first Victoria thought she was part veela, but decided against it quickly. Powerful, yes, but the woman was completely human. She had a small boy propped against one hip, and a little girl on the other hip. _

_When the babies saw Sirius, they squirmed to be let down and quickly toddled to him. He picked them up and held them as if this was the last time he'd ever see either of them. Victoria knew that could very well be the truth. She brushed away tears as he led them back to the cave. _

_"__How much longer do we have?" the tall woman asked in a tight voice. _

_"__Ten minutes at the most," Sirius answered. "Everyone's ready. Well, as ready as we can be." _

_"__Good. All that's left to do is seal the catacombs, then. Ginny?" The woman turned to a red-headed girl deep in conversation with a tall, messy haired boy. _

_"__Yes?" Ginny answered. _

_"__It's time to go, so you're in charge here. If things start sounding very bad, then start evacuating everyone through the passageways into the Forbidden Forest. But, that will only buy you a little time from the inevitable," she said grimly, taking out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "This is sodium pentothal. If it becomes necessary, I need you to give the twins half of the vial each. They shouldn't suffer because of this. Can you do that for me?" _

_Ginny nodded hesitantly. "It won't come to that." _

_"__I hope not." She hugged the teenager tightly, and turned to the rest of the small group assembled. "Time to dance." _

_Everyone burst out laughing at her comment. "Only you, Aunt Isabelle," the messy-haired boy said. She ruffled her nephew's hair affectionately. _

_"__Ok. Isabelle and Harry, you're with the castle group. The last line of defense, so the Death Eaters will be weak and mind games will be fun. Use your Discerner thing for mental amusement. I'll be with Remus in the grounds. Hermione, get inside the catacombs with Ginny and the twins," Sirius commanded. _

_"__Are you off your nut? We need her. You're the best dueler alive, so keep her with you. Hermione's a liability here with the rest of the children. Voldie won't rest until he finds her," Isabelle argued. _

_"__Fine," he said, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Let's say goodbye and roll." _

_Victoria openly bawled watching Harry and Hermione, her grandchildren, she thought with pride, hug each other and make snide comments about who was going to bring down more Death Eaters. Harry then turned to Ginny as Hermione hugged the little twins. It was a truly heartbreaking sight. _

_"__Isabelle, it's not too late to stay here with the children. You've fought so many battles, and--" She silenced Sirius by putting one finger on his lips. _

_"__Don't talk like that. Like you're not going to make it." She leaned her forehead against his. "My babies need their father." _

_"__And they need their mother. What if--" _

_"__No what if's. Sirius, I've always been there for you. I'm not about to leave you now." _

_"__Oh, Isabelle." He held her tightly. "Gráim thú." (I love you.) _

_"__The sun'll come out, tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun," she sang. _

_"__You're a nut." _

_"__And you love me for it. Come on, sing with me. This is getting way too heavy," she insisted. "Just thinkin' about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow 'til there's none." _

_"__When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin. And say," they softly sang together in perfect harmony. "Oh, the sun'll come out tomorrow. So ya gotta hang on 'til tomorrow, come what may! Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow. You're always a day away." _

_Victoria smiled through her tears at the couple, knowing that Juliana would surely approve of this Isabelle. The two women were eerily similar, as a matter of fact. Always trying to lighten the mood by cracking some joke. _

The scene began to blur. Although she tried her hardest to maintain the vision, Victoria awoke in a cold sweat, screaming. Stephen ran into the room, disheveled. 

"What's wrong? Is it time?" he asked anxiously. 

"No." She flung her head back on her pillows despondently. "I had a-a vision of the future. Somehow the worst happened. I don't know how, but it did. And, I don't know how it ends! If only I knew one way or the other…" 

"It'll be all right," Stephen said soothingly, taking her in his arms and stroking her hair. 

"No. Don't you get it? The dream means that I failed. I couldn't protect my children," she sobbed. 

"Victoria, all we can do is make the best of the time in between now and then. The future's going to happen anyway, so why worry about it?" 

"I guess you're right. Maybe we shouldn't tell our twins about the Light or the ancient treaties. It's been a curse and a burden to me my whole life. If they're going to face evil eventually, they should at least have a normal childhood," she said, looking at her midsection. 

"If you think that's best. I trust your judgment." 

"Thank you," Victoria said gratefully as he stood to leave. "Stephen?" 

"Yes?" 

"Don't go. I don't want to be alone right now." 

"Where's your usual bedmate?" he wondered with a half-grin. Victoria rolled her eyes heavenwards. 

"In his crib for a change. Please stay, just for tonight?" 

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," Stephen answered honestly. 

~~~~~

  
Bubbles and water splashed over the top of the sink and spilled onto the floor with a loud splash, causing Stephen to look up from his breakfast. He watched a very agitated Victoria give Sirius a bath. She greatly preferred the kitchen sink to the bathtub because kneeling was practically impossible these days. And if she managed this feat, getting up again was another issue entirely. No amount of charms or potions improved her mobility, which frustrated her. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked cautiously. She turned her head to face him and scowled. 

"I'm nine months pregnant in the middle of the summer. I'm hot, I can't move, I'm always tired and to top it all off, my back is killing me," she huffed. 

"Then why don't you go lay down?" Stephen suggested helpfully. "I'll take care of Sirius. We had fun yesterday at the Quiddich shop in town. I'm sure we can find an ice cream stand or something. I'll bring you any flavor you want." 

"Don't be nice to me," she warned, turning back to the baby. 

"I can't help it that I'm naturally charming. It's a curse, I swear," he said with a rakish grin. 

"I'd argue with that, but the proof's right in front of me," Victoria replied, looking down at her enlarged figure. She leaned closer to the sink and scrubbed away at a dark spot on Sirius' arm. He let out a painful cry, causing her to examine his wrist more closely. "Oh, no. You're kidding me, right?" 

"What is it? Is he sick or hurt?" Stephen asked anxiously. 

"Oh, you poor little thing," she said to the baby, plucking him out of the water and expertly wrapping him in a towel. 

"What?" he repeated. Victoria held out Sirius' wrist. "Ok, he has a birthmark in the shape of the letter t." 

"It's a sword," she corrected him. 

"Oh," Stephen said, finally understanding the importance of the tiny mark. 

"We're kindred spirits, you and I," she said softly to the baby boy. "You're the last of your people, just like I am. What are the odds of us finding each other, huh?" 

"How can you tell he's the last in his line?" 

"The mark turns black. Otherwise, it's a light brown that's barely noticeable. See?" Victoria held out her own wrist, showing him a tiny black shield. 

"It'll lighten after the twins are born, then?" 

"Exactly. You got this from your daddy, didn't you? Worthless Scottish git. Oops, I shouldn't have said that. It's not your fault who your parents are. I certainly know that. And he was a good man, Sirius, or you mum wouldn't have married him. Maybe he'll get a hold of himself." She sighed. 

"Maybe," Stephen said doubtfully. Victoria obviously hadn't heard about how William had been acting after his wife died. And in her current state, he wasn't going to upset her. Especially when she let out a mangled cry and stared at Sirius like it was the first time that she'd ever seen him. 

"Stephen! My vision – it's much worse than I realized," she gasped. 

"Meaning? Come on, sit down." He guided her to a chair. 

"Meaning that something just occurred to me. Sirius has three children by two different mothers. The oldest child, a girl, has your hair. Except it looks cute on her," Victoria teased, winking at him. It was pretty cute on him, too. "So that means that her mother is our daughter." 

"So? Sirius is a fairly upstanding, decent six month old. I'm sure he'll turn out all right." 

"That's not the point, Stephen. Our daughter's dead. We have a granddaughter without a mother. My baby's not even born, and she's dead!" She burst into tears, clutching Sirius. 

"You don't know that for sure," he said practically. 

"Then where was she! No mother would leave their child in a life or death situation to fend for themselves. And there was another teenager, a boy. He looked a whole like what our son will look like. No parents, just an aunt! Who's the mother of Sirius' other children. So, Harry's mum has a sister who marries Sirius?" Victoria mused to herself, wiping her tears onto her sleeve, not caring how childish it looked. 

"Harry?" Stephen wondered. 

"Yes, Harry," she repeated. "And the girl's name is Hermione." 

"What kind of name is _that_?" 

"It's from Shakespeare." 

"It sounds like an infectious disease." He wrinkled his nose. 

"You're talking about our granddaughter here!" Victoria pointed out, beginning to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "And Sirius' daughter, so bugger off." 

Stephen looked at the tiny baby and just shook his head amusedly. "So, you're around to stay, huh?" 

"Of course he is! We can't let him grow up by himself, right?" She looked at him pleadingly. 

"Nah. He is pretty cute," he joked. Stephen had never been so happy in all his life. Victoria said "we", which meant that she wanted him to stick around. 

~~~~~

  
A loud squeal caused Victoria to lazily open one eye to make sure Sirius wasn't hurt. The other day, Stephen bought him a baby broomstick from the Quiddich shop. Even since then, when he wasn't sleeping or eating, Sirius insisted on riding around the cottage. If anyone tried to separate him and his broomstick, he pitched a royal fit until he was allowed to return to his toy. 

"Isn't five feet a little high, Stephen?" she asked, waking up a bit. 

"Nah," he replied, lowering Sirius a foot or so to appease her. "He's charmed to the broomstick's baby seat, Victoria. No way he'll fall." 

"If you say so," she said, not fully believing him. "You're spoiling the baby." 

"I am not! Learning to fly is an essential skill. The sooner he learns, the better," Stephen protested. 

"Quiddich is not a lifestyle." 

"Don't listen to her speak those blasphemies, Sirius. Oh, did I show you? Since he likes his broomstick so much, I sort of picked up a couple more. I hope you don't mind," he said sheepishly, pointing to two small boxes stacked neatly in the corner. 

"Mind? Stephen, that's so sweet," she beamed. "And I was kidding about the Quiddich thing. Whatever our kids want to do is fine with me. They won't have to scrape knuts to do what makes them happy." 

"What are you talking about?" He looked across the living room, puzzled. Victoria sighed wearily and rubbed her temples. 

"My parents didn't want me to be an artist. So, they never paid for any of my lessons or supplies. I worked in my teacher's studio for years; it was the only way I could do what I loved." 

"I didn't know that," Stephen said softly. 

"No one really did. One time, when we were at Hogwarts, someone pulled a prank on me and dumped all of my supplies into the lake. A whole summer's worth of earnings was gone. Oh, I cried and cried," she said with sad misty eyes. "But, someone replaced them out of the blue one day with much nicer supplies. The ones I kept drooling over in the store but could never afford. I still use the brushes." 

"Really?" he asked a little too eagerly. 

"Yes, I do," Victoria said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. "You wouldn't know anything about that little prank, would you?" 

Stephen looked at the floor guiltily. "I didn't know that you couldn't buy more supplies." 

"Why? What could possibly possess you to do that?" Her anger allowed her to get to her feet much more quickly than usual, and she stared down at him, fuming. 

"Because I fancied you," he admitted, his eyes still cast downwards. "Ever since when we were kids during the war. But when the war ended and you started taking your art lessons, you never gave me the time of day. I thought that maybe if you couldn't do any art, that you'd talk to me again." 

"That is very twisted logic." 

"I know. Look, I didn't mean to hurt you. And I tried to make things right." 

"You repaid a debt." She turned to waddle down the hallway. Stephen jumped to his feet and grabbed his arm to stop her. 

"Why can't you ever believe that I care about you?" he asked, placing his hands on Victoria's shoulders and looking her squarely in the eyes. 

"Because no one does. I exist solely to keep a bloodline alive. People talked to me at Hogwarts because I'm rich, and--" 

"And I love you," Stephen interrupted her. "You can keep pushing me away, but that won't make me stop loving you." 

"Go away," she ordered, her chin quivering with unshed tears. He answered her by leaning down and passionately kissing her. Victoria roughly shoved him away. 

"Tell me that you don't love me, and I'll walk through that door," he challenged. She looked out of the living room window and watched the night sky for a full minute. 

"I-I can't." 

Stephen's eyes lit up as if Christmas had come early. He threw his arms around her, and Victoria smiled crookedly. All of a sudden, her face twisted in pain and she doubled over. She looked at him with a panicked expression. 

"Victoria?" His eyes were wide as saucers, and he led her back to a chair. "Victoria, what's going on?" 

"I think it's time. But it can't be. It's too early," she exclaimed frantically. 

Stephen kneeled to her level and held her hand soothingly. "It may be early, but it'll be fine." 

"Fine? Fine! Are you the one who's about to give birth to twins? Didn't think so." Her face contorted as another contraction hit her. "See the blue stone on the mantel? It's a portkey that'll take you to Mariana. I really think I need a doctor right about now." 

He didn't want to leave her, but he quickly followed her directions. Five minutes later, he reappeared in the living room with Doctor Piedra in tow. If she was surprised that Stephen was around, she didn't show it. She scooped up her grandson on her way to a now terrified Victoria. 

"Well, Sirius, looks like your playmates are on their way, doesn't it?" she asked, putting her doctor's bag on the floor. 

"Seems that way." Victoria smiled weakly. "Stephen?" 

"Yes, love?" 

She gazed up at him. "I've been thinking a lot lately about what you said about the future. And you're right – there's nothing I can do to keep it from happening. The best I can do is enjoy the time I have with the people I love. What I'm trying to say is, will you marry me? For real this time?" 

"S-sure. Of course I'll marry you," he stuttered, practically speechless. 

Mariana smiled as she walked down the hallway with Sirius to put him to bed. She laid the baby down in his crib and charmed him to sleep. It was going to be a long night from the looks of things. 

In the living room, Victoria bit her lip until the pain lessened and she could speak again. "Now? Will you marry me now?" 

"What?!? As in now now? You're having a baby – two babies. How can we get married when you're in labor?" This whole conversation was becoming illogical to him. 

"You mean you came here without a ring?" she breathed, trying not to concentrate on the pain. 

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, yeah, I brought a ring. Just in case." 

"So find someone to marry us and put that ring on my finger already." 

"It's an engagement ring, not a wedding ring," he pointed out as the doctor arrived back in the room. Victoria rolled her eyes. 

"Then pick up a couple of wedding bands and find someone to marry us. I want to be your wife before I have these babies. It's important to me," she pleaded. 

"But what if the twins come while I'm gone?" Stephen protested. 

Mariana stopped attending to Victoria long enough to give him a reassuring look. "That's not going to happen. You have plenty of time to arrange a quick wedding. I'd appreciate it if you could help me get her settled into bed before you leave, though." 

He nodded distractedly and gently pulled Victoria to her feet. She held onto him for dear life while she navigated her way down the hallway, looking forward to reaching her bed. Mariana promised her numbing charms and a glass of ice water, both of which she wanted desperately. Once she was more comfortable, Stephen kissed her goodbye and headed towards town. 

It took him nearly two hours, but Stephen managed to find a local jeweler who would open his store after hours. He hurriedly picked up two fairly plain bands, paid for them, and rushed into the street to find a justice of the peace. Being a predominantly Roman Catholic town, most couples married in the church. He didn't even know if San Sebastian had a justice of the peace. 

He ran to the wizarding part of town and asked passers-by in broken Spanish if they knew where a courthouse was. Luckily, an older woman spoke enough English to point him in the right direction. Stephen found the rickety, dilapidated looking building, hoping that there was a magistrate on duty. He breathed a sigh of relief when the clerk informed him that yes, there was a justice of the peace in the building. 

The clerk disappeared down the hallway and returned with a kind-looking man in well-tailored black robes. Stephen briefly explained the situation, asking the justice of the peace if he would come to the cottage and marry he and Victoria. Seeing the man's hesitation, Stephen opened his mouth to indicate that he could pay for the inconvenience, but it wasn't necessary. 

The judge smiled, went back to his office to gather the official papers, and followed Stephen back to the cottage. A much more relaxed Victoria smiled when she saw the pair enter the room. She delicately sipped her water and put the glass down on her nightstand. 

"You must be the bride," the justice of the peace said with an amused smile. "I am Judge Fernandez, and it is nice to meet you." 

She blushed a little and shook the older wizard's hand. "I'm Victoria. Thank you so much for coming here on such short notice and all. I'm sure you don't get many requests like this." 

"You would be surprised. Since time is of the essence, do you mind if we begin?" the judge inquired. Victoria and Stephen stared at each other as if they were the only two people on earth. 

"Are you sure about this?" Stephen asked anxiously. 

She frowned and pulled him to her level by his robes collar. "Don't you dare get cold feet on me now. In case you haven't noticed, we're about to have a family here. So let's be a family for our children." 

"Those numbing charms aren't a hundred percent effective, are they?" 

"No. And they become less effective as time goes on. I'm not having these babies until you marry me, so you had better hurry up." Victoria clutched his collar tighter, and he gulped nervously. Knowing her, she wasn't making an idle threat. 

Stephen extracted himself from her vise grip and took the rings out of his pocket. "Will these do?" 

"They're lovely," she replied, smiling again. 

Shortly after midnight, the justice of the peace began a simple handfasting ceremony. The couple exchanged vows and rings right there in the cottage bedroom. There were no flowers, no music, nothing festive at all to celebrate the marriage. But, none of that mattered to Victoria or Stephen, who beamed as the judge pronounced them husband and wife. 

~~~~~

Random saga trivia: Out of everything that I've written, which is an absolute ton, this is by far my favorite chapter. When I've had a bad day and want to reread something to prove that I'm not completely daft, this is where I go. Just thought I'd share...

Like always, thanks for reading and all reviews welcome!


	6. Chapter 6: The End is the Beginning

Chapter 6

A tiny baby opened her mouth in a yawn, and closed her bright blue eyes. Beside her, an equally small baby boy lay on the bed, looking at the world wide-eyed. Victoria sat staring at the newborns in amazement. None of the books she read while pregnant prepared her for the emotions running through her mind. She leaned her head on Stephen's shoulder. 

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" she whispered in awe. 

"Especially considering that they're half mine," he joked. 

She roughly elbowed him in the ribs. "Stephen! What an awful thing to say. Especially since you're plenty cute. I wouldn't marry an ugly man. I'm an artist; I have standards." 

"Do you now?" He asked teasingly, kissing her lightly on the top of the head. "Married with children all in one day. I can honestly say that this is the best day of my life." 

"Mine too." 

Victoria gazed into his eyes, which were the same exactly the same shade of blue as the both of the twins. She loved his eyes; otherwise, she would be upset that neither of her children was brown-eyed like herself. They did have her jet-black hair, though, even if it was multidirectional like Stephen's. 

"What do we name these babies, anyway? You're the Seer, so I'm sure you know already." He put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder playfully. She swatted at him. 

"Don't you dare try to get fresh with me. After twelve hours of labor, you better keep your distance, buddy," she warned. 

Stephen grimaced at the memory. "Was it really _that_ bad?" 

"Let's put it this way. I now know why I only have two children. After Regina was born, I didn't think I had a bit of energy left. Luckily James came quickly," she said thankfully, turning her attention back to the twins. "Except for being different genders, they could almost pass for identical twins. And they're so little! Sirius weighed more than both of them combined when he was born." 

"Wasn't he eleven pounds or something?" 

"Ten and a half. The two of you better grow fast, or you'll get bullied around for sure," Victoria laughed. 

"Nah, from what you tell me, they'll all be best mates," Stephen said, playing with James' hand. 

She gave him a _look_ and leaned down to talk to her son. "I'm counting on you, little one, to keep Don Juan from debauching your sister. Yes, I know it's a losing battle, but you can at least punch his lights out or something." 

The baby stared at her solemnly, as if he knew exactly what she was asking him to do. His proud mother beamed down at him, while Stephen just shook his head. 

"I feel sorry for that boy. Sirius'll probably spend his whole childhood existence pining away for our little girl. Regina, is that what her name is?" He paused while Victoria nodded her head. "Fitting. If she's anything like her mummy, she won't give my man Sirius the time of day. He'll chase her around, and she'll be an ice queen. Yes, James, that's right. Your big sister will be frosty like her mummy." 

Victoria huffed loudly. "I'm not an ice queen!" 

"That's right. You're now the dowager empress, and have passed down your title to the next generation. Just you watch. You Gates women should be lucky there are men who like their women nice and chilly. We like the challenge of thawing you out." He grinned charmingly. "And you, James, will be perfect like your daddy." 

"You have such an ego! And we're Potter women, if you please," she glowered. 

"I love you so much, Victoria." 

"And I love you," she said for the first time, shocked at how natural the words felt. 

Stephen poked at Regina to wake her up. She looked at him grumpily and went back to sleep. "See? Grouch. James, on the other hand, is cheerful. Us men have to stick together, right?" 

"Ha. He'll be a mummy's boy, won't you?" she cooed, tickling the newborn's feet. He smiled, which caused his father to frown. 

"Traitor," Stephen accused him. "Say, what do you want to do now?" 

Victoria thought for a minute. "Eat. Then maybe take a nap. By then it'll probably be time to nurse the hungry masses. Why?" 

"No, I meant what direction do you want our lives to go in? Stay here; go back to London, that sort of thing. Because I had an idea, and I want to know what you think," he explained, looking at her from the corner of his eye. She leaned back on the pillows and crossed her arms. 

"Shoot." 

"Well, the twins are far too small to travel back to London for a while. So, I thought that maybe we could stay here for a while. This is our honeymoon, after all. Hey, lots of couples start families on their honeymoons," he winked. 

Victoria was in the middle of taking a sip of water and laughed at his comment, shooting water everywhere. "But how many couples bring back the babies with them?" 

"This is true. We do things our own way, that's all. Seriously, what do you think?" 

"I think that's a wonderful idea. What do we do after that?" 

"Who knows? Let's take it one day at a time and see what happens. In the meantime, let's be a young married couple on holiday with their newborn twins. If such a thing exists, and if it doesn't, we just made it up." 

"Sounds good to me." 

~~~~~  


  


So, the Potters did stay in San Sebastian. For nearly two years, as a matter of fact. Mummy P loved the culture and the beach; Daddy P loved making her happy. Shortly after the twins were born, Abuela took Papa back with her. He learned Spanish from her and English from the Potters, who he visited regularly. 

However, my Grandfather Black woke up one day and suddenly realized that he had a son that he hadn't seen in two years. He owled Abuela, demanding that Papa come home and live with him. She didn't want to comply, but had little choice. If she refused to hand my father over, my grandfather could've taken him and Abuela would've never seen Papa again. 

Mummy P was heartbroken at the idea of Papa being raised as she was – a vicious cycle of endless nannies and rarely seeing your actual parents. Parent, in his case. Anyway, she ranted and raved until Daddy P came up with the simple solution of moving back to London. They packed their things and moved to their house in Chelsea. 

Daddy P took another job at the Ministry, and worked his way up the ranks. Eventually, he became the Minister of Magic, as you'll read later. The best Minister that's ever been, in my opinion. Mummy P continued to draw and do her art. Mostly, she focused on the children, which thankfully included my father. 

Unfortunately, Mummy P's fears came true, and my grandfather severely neglected Papa. Even though the Potters did everything they could to include them in their family and make him feel welcome, it wasn't the same. No matter what, a person still wants to be loved and accepted by his parents. Which never happened in my father's case. Maybe that's why he goes out of his way to be there for us kids… 

Enough psychoanalyzing. Papa's childhood breaks my heart, so I'd really rather not write about it. Suffice it to say that he survived because the Potters were wonderful surrogate parents. I consider them my true grandparents, even though I'm not blood related to them. 

The Potters were Mom's surrogate parents, too. I suppose that I should talk about Mom's side of the family. Although Harry agrees with me that there's not much to say about the Evans side. I have a grandfather. No, cross that. I have an evil, vicious monster that messed up Mom's life nearly beyond repair, which I happen to share DNA with. Enough said about the Evans side. 

On to the MacConnell side, my maternal grandmother's side. My Grandma Catherine was born in County Galway, Ireland, to an ancient and powerful wizarding family. Her small community generally kept to themselves, and didn't mingle much with the outside world except for commerce and sometimes to marry. Sort of like the Amish in America, only without the weird outfits. 

However, Grandma Catherine was a squib, born without any magical powers whatsoever. While she grew up steeped in the magical traditions, she always felt like an outsider. So, when my Muggle grandfather's family came to the area on holiday, she fell in love with and married him. They moved back to his estate in Dover, England, which is where I'm writing this prologue, as a matter of fact. 

When she moved, Grandma decided to put the magical world behind her. A few years later, my aunts Petunia and Lily were born. They never learned Gaelic, Grandma's family's language, nor did they even know about their heritage. Grandma didn't want them to be shunned like she was, and I completely understand that. She was only looking out for her children. And for all she knew, they were both Muggles. 

My mother, Isabelle, was born about three months shy of Aunt Lily's tenth birthday. From her first breath, she turned her world upside down. Mom is one of those people who walks into a room, and everyone stops to stare. No lie – I've seen it happen many times. Even as a baby, she possessed this energy that drew everyone and everything to her. 

Especially Aunt Lily, who adored my mother. Before Mom was born, my aunt and Aunt Petunia were very close, and did everything together. But, then she preferred to spend her time looking after Mom, which made Aunt Petunia insanely jealous. Then one day, a Hogwarts school owl flew into the kitchen window, and the Evans family changed forever. 

When my maternal great-grandmother, who I know as Grandma Rose, found out that Aunt Lily was a witch, she immediately Apparated from Galway for a prolonged visit. Grandma Catherine couldn't have been more thrilled that one of her daughters had the gifts that she didn't. Obviously Aunt Petunia was a squib or a Muggle, whichever way you want to look at it. 

So, that left my mother, who was just a little over a year old. Upset that Aunt Lily knew nothing about the wizarding world, Grandma Catherine swore to make up for that with Mom. Just in case she turned out to be magical, Grandma taught her Gaelic, which is still Mom's preferred language. She says that she can't think properly in English. 

Grandma Catherine, along with Grandma Rose, spent Mom's early years telling her all of the old Irish folklore and customs. As a result, Mom grew up as a little Irish girl, completely ignorant of anything English. Because of all the attention she received, Aunt Petunia hated her. But, she went to boarding school like Aunt Lily, so my mother was usually the only child in the house. 

Not a good thing, especially after Grandma Rose died and Grandma Catherine became ill with cancer. Like Papa, Mom was mostly neglected, left to a nanny. But unlike him, Mom's father did notice that she existed. My poor mother really has been to hell and back. And that's all I want to say about that, at least right now. 

Anyway, on a much cheerier note, I'd like to tell the story of how my parents really met. If you ask either of them, they'll always start talking about when Mom was eight and Aunt Petunia deserted her. She ran off when Aunt Lily and crew showed up at the house, and Papa found her. Very cute story, but it's not historically accurate. Since I'm all about giving a truthful family history, here goes… 

Victoria Potter anxiously rushed through King's Cross Station, hurrying towards Platform 9 ¾. Since her twin children left for Hogwarts that fall, the house suddenly felt huge and empty. For the past month and a half, she'd been counting down the days until they returned for the Christmas holidays. 

So, the fact that she was running extremely late irritated her to no undying end. She had an art exhibit set to open on the evening of the Winter Solstice, and spent the morning arguing with the caterer about the menu and pricing. By the time she finished yelling at the caterer's face in the fireplace, she had a pounding headache. 

She rubbed her temples tiredly and ran through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, not caring if any Muggles saw her do so. All that mattered was seeing her children again. Victoria frantically scanned the platform, sighing with relief when she spied both twins and Sirius. 

"Mum!" James Potter shouted, waving her over. She grinned and crossed the platform, giving both kids a hug. And didn't really care if hugging your mum in public wasn't cool. Sirius frowned, and his shoulders slumped slightly. 

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Victoria said quietly. 

The young man met her gaze and set his jaw determinedly. "Nothing to be sorry for. Dad said that he probably wouldn't be back from Buenos Aires until Christmas Eve, anyway. And where's my hug, Mummy P?" 

Victoria hugged him a little tighter than her own children, truly feeling what he was going through. She didn't know how many times she stepped off the platform, hoping against reason that her parents would meet her. Just to be disappointed when they didn't. 

When she looked up, a pair of green eyes was staring at her curiously. The eyes belonged to a toddler being held by a stately looking redheaded woman. Who looked at Victoria oddly, probably because at thirty-one, she looked more like the Potter twins' older sister than their mother. She smiled and extended her hand. 

"Please excuse my rudeness. I was so excited to see my children that I must've misplaced my manners. I'm Victoria Potter," she introduced herself. The other woman smiled back and adjusted the toddler so that she could shake Victoria's hand. 

"Catherine Evans," she said with a thick Irish accent. 

"Lily's mother. Oh, it's so nice to meet you. Regina writes such lovely things about her." As does James, but that's not the point, Victoria thought, wrinkling her nose slightly. She turned to a pretty redhead standing beside Mrs. Evans. "And you must be Lily." 

"Yes, ma'am," she answered politely. 

Victoria noticed another teenager behind Lily, who was staring sullenly at everything. Mrs. Evans turned around and gave her a warning stare. The girl huffed and faked a cheerful expression. 

"This is my oldest daughter, Petunia. She attends St. Ann's school in the north," her mother said. 

"Nice to meet you," Victoria said kindly. Petunia smiled briefly, but didn't say anything. She was clearly uncomfortable. 

Mrs. Evans smiled at the squirming toddler in her arms. "And this is my youngest, Isabelle." 

A chill ran down Victoria's spine. She gaped at the girl as her mother placed her on the floor. Little Isabelle immediately ran over to Sirius and tugged on his robes. He looked down at the toddler, puzzled, especially as her pulling grew more insistent. After a minute, he shrugged and picked her up. 

Isabelle looked him dead in the eyes – an eerie stare, causing Sirius to swallow nervously. It was if she could read his very thoughts. She smiled and wound her small arms around his neck. James snickered, and Isabelle shot him a look that could melt steel. 

"Seems that my sister fancies you," Lily laughed, as Isabelle laid her head on Sirius' shoulder. 

"She has good taste, don't you?" Sirius directed the last few words to the toddler, who batted her eyelashes and cooed in response. Encouraged, he continued talking. Although Isabelle didn't appear to understand a word he said, she clearly enjoyed the attention. 

Victoria fought hard to maintain her composure. "How old is your little one?" 

"Eighteen months," Mrs. Evans replied. "She's unusually tall for her age, so she looks much older. Acts it, too." 

She continued chatting, but Victoria's mind whirled. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Sirius entertain Isabelle. Everything about this little girl – her flaxen blonde hair, deep green eyes, porcelain complexion, name – told her that this toddler would grow into the woman from her vision from all those years ago. But that was impossible, right? Sirius was two months shy of twelve; Isabelle only a year and a half. 

But, as Victoria watched the two interact, she realized that it was indeed possible. More than possible, it was inevitable. She had Seen it. Already Isabelle looked at Sirius with the undying loyalty and devotion evident in the vision. Yes, Victoria became increasingly certain that Juliana's little boy would become a cradle robber. 

Which means that Lily will grow up to marry James, she thought. She looked at the petite redhead again, critically analyzing her. It struck Victoria as bizarre to know who her children would marry, particularly since she had no clue about her own future. Shrugging, she turned to her daughter. 

"Regina, would you like to come to the studio with me? Unfortunately, I need to work all afternoon. But, since most of the art's already at the gallery, I have plenty of space if you want to set up shop," she offered, watching her daughter's eyes light up. 

"Would I?" she gasped. "Oh, Mum, that would be wonderful! Can Lily come, too?" 

"I'm sure her family wants to spend time with her," Victoria said. 

Mrs. Evans overheard the conversation, and saw the disappointed looks on the young girls' faces. "The other girls and I were planning on going shopping this afternoon, Lily. But, if you'd rather go to the studio, I don't mind." 

As the adults worked out the details, Petunia stomped over to Sirius. She glared at him angrily, mostly because her baby sister preferred him, a virtual stranger, to her. Isabelle never looked at her with half the affection she so willingly heaped on this freak wizard boy. 

"Come on, Isabelle. We're going shopping with Mum now," Petunia said sharply, trying to pry her out of Sirius arms. The toddler wrapped her arms around him, held on for dear life and screamed the one word she knew in English. 

"No!" Isabelle screeched over and over, until her mother rushed over. 

"What is going on?" Mrs. Evans asked anxiously. 

Petunia pointed a bony finger at her sister. "I tried to get her so that we could leave to go shopping, but she won't let go of _him_." Mrs. Evans began to retrieve her youngest child, but hesitated at the wild look in Isabelle's eyes. She'd never seen her daughter so attached to anyone. Victoria glanced at the situation and shook her head with a slight smile. 

If I close my eyes, I can picture the scene of my toddler mother shamelessly staking out her claim. Make no mistake, I'm sure Mom knew exactly what she was doing that day. She certainly got her way, because Grandma Catherine and Petunia went shopping while Papa and Uncle James showed Mom around Diagon Alley. 

Aunt Lily wanted to go along, but Uncle James said not to worry, they could take care of Mom just fine. I think he was trying to impress my aunt. Something worked, because she married the man. Anyway, imagine two eleven-year olds with a toddler. An incredibly hyperactive, curious toddler. 

Who was a captive audience for all of Papa's and Uncle James' crazy antics. I'd love to get a hold of a time turner to see what they were like back then. But, I can't, so I settle for snooping around for old stories. 

So, Mom spent the day attached to my father, giving every girl who looked his way evil death stares, especially Regina Potter. I've never quite figured out what relationship she is to me, so I usually call her Hermione's mum. Anyway, she and Aunt Lily met Mom and the boys for ice cream. Mom proceeded to glare at Hermione's mum the entire time. Am I alone in thinking that's weird? My parents' whole relationship is a little bizarre to me. 

~~~~~

  
Breathe, Meggie. Breathe. 

That's my internal monologue, but it's not entirely working. I'm about two seconds away from hyperventilating. Maybe one. Okay, I admit it. I'm a nervous wreck, a basket case. However, I must overcome the waves of panic and clear my mind enough to finish this prologue. Why? Because the absolute worst thing that could've happened just did. 

Mom busted me in the attic. She didn't just bust me; she discovered my little project, which is this family history. I have twenty-five minutes now to finish the prologue and deliver it for her to read. 

If I'm late or don't give her everything, she'll tell Papa what I've been up to. Honestly, I'm tempted to call her bluff. At least he'd be more understanding and calm Mom down. Until he reads that I know his deepest, darkest secrets. Oh, Lord in heaven, I'm dead. 

Beyond dead. They'll send me to Catholic boarding school or worse. No one is more fearsome than Isabelle Evans Black when she's angry. Beyond angry, I hurt her by digging up the past, even though I didn't mean to. The look on her face when she leafed through my notebook nearly broke my heart. 

Mom ordered me to write down our conversation like I would for any other part of my project to see what kind of spin I put on past events. I'll do my best, but writing oneself in the third person is quite strange. Since I'm pressed for time, it'll probably be an odd hybrid of the first person and the third person limited points of view. 

I'm babbling about writing styles when I really should be focusing on the content of the scene. Focus, Meggie. Breathe. Think, and write. Then pray that you live to see tomorrow. Although I did write about one of Hermione's visions during her sixth year of Hogwarts where Mom says very nice things about me. 

However, part of me would rather die a painful death than have that vision come to fruition because that means that I'll never get what I want worse than anything. Or rather, that I get it and consequently lose it, meaning him, to someone else. What does this have to do with the present situation? Absolutely nothing, just as I thought. Well, here goes… 

As usual, I was sitting on Aunt Lily's old trunk, leaning my head against the wall, writing away. I'd been there for about an hour when I heard the door open and my parents walk upstairs. Luckily, I had the Invisibility Cloak with me, so I wrapped it around both my journal and me. 

Apparently, my parents were looking for one of Mom's old dancing costumes for Rachel. She's Harry's oldest daughter, and a real prat. I definitely prefer Amy's company, and she should be grateful for that. If it wasn't for me, Harry would always be yelling at her, and she'd definitely be a pariah. Amy and I have this Black Sheep club going. Poor girl, following in perfect Rachel's footsteps. 

My parents found Mom's old costumes, and started sifting through them. They stared laughing and joking about when Mom was a little girl, and her dreams of being a famous dancer. Not one to pass up a golden opportunity to gain more insight on my parents' oddball relationship, I took out my quill and began quietly scribbling away. Much as they puzzle me, my parents truly love each other, which I do find comforting. 

After they found the costume, Mom asked Papa to take it downstairs to Harry, with the excuse that she wanted to look for something or other. Whatever it was, my father shrugged and headed downstairs. Then, Mom turned around and looked me dead in the eyes. I was paralyzed in her gaze, and could not move, even if I wanted to. 

"Reveal yourself," she said in an even, calm voice. There was no use pretending that I wasn't there because she Discerned my presence. I took a deep breath and took off the cloak with trembling fingers. 

"Hi, Mom," I said meekly. 

She stood to her full height – nearly six feet tall – and glared at me. "What are you doing up here, Megan?" 

Megan. My full name. It was at that moment that I realized how much trouble I was in. Mom _always_ calls me Meggie; I think it's the first time I've ever heard her address me that way. My face paled. I could feel the color literally draining from my hairline down through my toes into the floor. 

"Well, um, I'm, that is, I'm," I began. 

"Stop babbling, child, and please tell me why you're in the one area of this estate your father and I have forbidden you from going to," Mom said sharply, green eyes ablaze. 

I gulped, frightened beyond belief. "I'm sorry." 

"Sorry is not an answer." She crossed her arms. "How long have you been coming up here?" 

"Five years." 

"For what purpose?" Mom's formal questioning unnerved me. 

"I've been writing a story," I said neutrally, hoping to placate my mother. Unfortunately, she saw straight through my carefully hedged answer. I, of all people, should know how shrewd she could be. 

"What sort of story?" 

"About us, Mom. The whole family. I got really tired of reading things that were untrue, so I decided to write an honest family history. That's what this is." I held out my journal. She summoned it to her and read the first few lines of the prologue. I distinctly heard a small gasp. 

"So you know about everything." It was a statement, not a question. I nodded my head almost imperceptibly. Mom looked at me, shattered. "Meggie, how could you?" 

I hung my head, ashamed that I upset my mother. "I didn't know what I'd find when I started looking around." 

"Why? I don't understand. What did I ever do to deserve this – betrayal by my own flesh and blood?" Mom cried out, looking heavenward. "Oh, haven't I paid enough for my sins? Couldn't I maintain my dignity before my own children? No, I suppose that some things aren't forgivable, or easily forgotten. Now you know my true character, Megan." 

She turned around slightly so that I couldn't see her cry. Her mind must've been racing with a million thoughts and old memories. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around my mother, hugging her tightly. 

"Yes, Mom. I know what you've done, and I still love you. Please, come sit down. Let me read something to you," I pleaded. Despite her anger, she did as I asked, and sat on Aunt Lily's trunk beside me. 

I opened the thick journal to the far back, which contained my Author's Notes. Clasping Mom's hand in my own, I began reading. "Author's Note #127: On my mother. If my mother were an Animagus, which to my knowledge she is not, I bet she'd take the form of a phoenix. First of all, she's incredibly beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman alive. I certainly think so, but I may be a bit prejudiced. And like a phoenix, just when you think Mom's out for the count, she rises from the ashes of her life, stronger than before. 

Oh, and she has amazing healing powers, like a phoenix. When you're upset, she cries with you, and somehow that makes things better. One smile from her makes the worst day better. And her hugs give you courage beyond belief. The first time I entered a fencing competition, Mom found me crying underneath the bleachers. She made me feel so good about myself that I destroyed the competition. If I win gold next year at the Olympics, it's all because of her. So, that's why I think she'd make a great phoenix." 

Mom blew her nose in a handkerchief and smiled weakly. "That's very sweet, Meggie." 

"Thank you. I know it was wrong to read your journals and go through everyone else's stuff. I only wanted to know the truth about things. My history's well rounded, I think. Before you destroy it and send me to St. Gertrude's, will you read it first? It has everyone's visions, lots of input from Harry--" 

"Harry knew of this? The bloody traitor," Mom seethed, gritting her teeth. "Fine, hand it to me." 

She flipped through the pages, surprised when some loose pages fell into her lap. "What are these?" 

"Oh," I blushed. "Those are the racy versions of some of the scenes I wrote. Nothing too terribly bad, but certainly not appropriate for children to read." 

Mom raised an eyebrow. "I see." 

She turned to the back of the book, and her eyes flew open. "Megan, are you daft? Author's Note #64: On Uncle James. I truly believe that Uncle James is the perfect man. He's handsome, charming, and nearly perfect. Unlike Harry, Uncle James appears not to be as uptight, which I like. And, he doesn't have Papa's issues or flaws. I definitely agree with Aunt Lily, who picked my uncle over my father." 

"What?" I asked defensively. 

"In your own words, you're 'desperately in love' with none other than Stephen Parker. We need to have a talk about that too, but let me stay on point. Don't you realize that Stephen's practically your father's clone in personality and temperament? Say you like the good guys all you want, but you're your mother's daughter." She tapped the journal. "Pulling a stunt like this proves it." 

"Ok, fine. I like bad boys, too. After writing my history, I really believe you now when you say that there's nothing Nick or I can do that you and Papa haven't done." 

Mom rolled her eyes. "Do you think we're proud of that? There are reasons why we haven't told y'all about our mistakes. We've done things to protect y'all, and ourselves, that we both deeply regret. And there are times in our lives that we'd rather forget." 

"I know." I laid my head on her shoulder, and we sat in silence for several minutes. "Speaking of dark times, I also wanted to show how important Professor Snape is to our family. Without him, we wouldn't have survived, although Papa will never admit it. I rather like Professor Snape." 

"Well, he spoils you and Amy absolutely rotten," Mom said with a definite tone of amusement. 

Then, Mom gave me a half hour to wrap up my prologue and deliver the manuscript to her, like I wrote earlier. If she approves of my version of events, she'll hand it back to me. Mom wondered why I'd write my prologue last, and actually laughed when I told her that every good writer writes the introduction after the story's finished. Laughter is always a good sign. 

So, please forgive me if there's a rocky transition between this hurried conclusion and the continuation of my family's tale. Well, my time's nearly up, so I'm laying down my quill. Wish me luck...Meggie 

~~~~

Well, that's the end of the Prologue! If you like the story so far, check out the next part in the saga, Part I: A New Family. It can be found either here at ff.net, my website, or the HP boards. Pick your poison, lol! Hope y'all enjoyed my story...

–Pamela


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